Just a Simple Mission
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: CONCLUDED WITH THE EPILOGUE! Pre Nibelheim fic. Sephiroth and Zack come to a desert prison for what should be a routine investigation into a possible uprising, and find that it will be anything but routine.
1. Welcome to Dismal

**Final Fantasy VII**

**Just a Simple Mission**

**By LuckyLadybug**

**Notes: Sephiroth and Zack are not mine, and the other characters plus the story is! Many thanks to both Lisa and Stacey, who have been an immense help and encouragement with characterization and plot points! And a warning to those who like action: this story will, of course, have it, but don't expect things to move fast right away. It's deliberately done, as is everything that happens. There's a reason for each scene. (And "brunet" can refer to someone with black hair as well as brown.) **

**This entire piece was inspired by noticing a scar Sephiroth has in _Advent Children_, on the left side of his collarbone. I started wondering how it might have been gained, and this was born. I had originally wanted them to visit Corel, and wrote it as such, but I realized that there would be a timeline conflict. I still wanted to keep the setting, so I've only changed the name. (Perhaps we can say that the way Dismal was handled was the inspiration for what happened to Corel later?)  
**

* * *

** Chapter One**

The world was passing by swiftly through the window of the train car. The spiky-haired brunet yawned, leaning sleepily on the narrow sill as he watched scraggly trees and tumbleweeds, mysterious and eerie rock formations, and the other elements of the wilderness zip through. Of course, those things were not actually moving (well, save a tumbleweed or two), but it seemed that they were, in his worn out state.

_Let's see,_ he thought to himself, _this past week we've been staying up late 'cause of the extra training, and then last night, we had that problem with the SOLDIER going AWOL. Didn't find him till it was going on for two. I don't think I've slept more than three hours, if that._ Before they had gotten on this train, they had taken a private airplane to the Western continent. And it had not even been light outside at the time. Even so, he had not slept much during the flight, and now that they were closer to the location, he doubted that he would be able to return to slumber.

Blearily he watched the lone piece of hair vibrate and jump around his face as the vehicle under him jerked. Even after being in SOLDIER long enough to attain his First Class position, he had not gotten used to the many sleepless hours necessary to complete the missions. But that was not a problem that his confederate seemed to be having. Not that he could ever recall a time when it had been an issue for the other. Actually, the older man reminded him of some certain commercials he had seen for batteries on television. He kept going and going and going. . . . Not that he would appreciate being compared to a small pink rabbit. The brunet had to grin in amusement.

He slumped back, looking across the cleared table to where his comrade had spread out a map. The other seemed occupied with its contents, oblivious to the long bangs falling into his face and over his reading glasses. At last he propped himself up on an elbow, boredom manifesting itself in his features. His companion was further amused.

"I thought maybe you'd dropped off sitting up, Seph," he remarked, crossing his arms. "And I dunno how you can even look at that thing with the ground moving underneath you. Gives me a headache every time."

"Seph" shrugged noncommittally. "That's why they give the maps to me," he answered. "You getting motion sickness wouldn't help anyone."

"Too true." The brunet stretched lazily. "So . . . have you ever been to this Dismal place we're going to?"

The other grunted, finally brushing his silver hair away from his eyes with the fingers of one hand. "It was a mining town, largely modern as far as technology was concerned. But some of the occupants still clung to the old traditions of the area," he reported. "They probably still do. Right now it's little more than a desert prison, with an amusement park built on a plate above it. I'm sure you've heard of what happened to the village?"

"Yeah . . . something about eco-terrorists blowing up the mako reactor?" He frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned forward on the table.

"That's correct, Zack." The one called "Seph"---Sephiroth---removed his glasses, setting them on the table as he rubbed wearily at his green eyes. "It's ironic, that even though they insist they're fighting Shinra for the planet's best good, they never stop to think about the damage that their own behavior will cause. Many people were killed upon the reactor's detonation." He had very little respect for such people, who brought about such chaos in the name of the planet. All they were succeeding in doing, in the long run, was making their views seem fanatical and downright mad. Anyone who had any sense, he felt, would be able to clearly see that such actions were not having the desired effect.

Zack narrowed his eyes. "So then Shinra had to go in and clean up from it," he mused.

Sephiroth nodded. "The rebel faction AVALANCHE was believed to have been stationed within the village. Shinra did what it could to quell the outbreak and uncover all those involved, but they either had quickly made their escape, or else the villagers were protecting them." He looked irritated. "It's also possible that every one of them took part in AVALANCHE."

Zack shook his head. "The prison that's there . . . Shinra built it, didn't they?"

"Yes, but they don't run it." He pushed the map away from him. "Two days ago, Shinra received news that the residents of North Dismal, as well as the prison staff, still aren't happy with Shinra's methods. Supposedly, they've been threatening to attack Midgar."

"Oh . . . so it's just an average 'put down the rebellion' mission," said Zack. "If there's one in the first place."

"Possibly." The older man leaned back against the plush seat. "The prison warden denied the rumors and said that we would be more than welcome to come and look around." He frowned. "But something doesn't seem right. It's all much too simple, as if it's been planned this way." And in his years of experience, he had come to realize that this was a warning sign. Most would dismiss Dismal as insignificant and not a threat. After all, what remained now was one prison, and the survivors from both the reactor's explosion and Shinra's retaliation. But even a few, if driven by hatred and vengeance, could prove disastrous if ignored.

"Well, you're the war hero." And the brunet was perfectly content to follow the other's lead. He was still not certain what he thought about this latest assignment, but he imagined that he would form an opinion once they arrived.

Now he frowned, a new thought occuring to him. "Hey, if there is something going on there, it'll probably take more than the two of us to fix it," he exclaimed. "There's a plan for that, right?" Both he and Sephiroth were strong, and among the favored SOLDIERs, but still, two men against a possible army were not fair odds. They would never be able to manage if all of the people there were against them, or even if a large portion of them were. After all, even SOLDIERs were only human.

Sephiroth nodded. "If we find anything suspicious, we're to call the headquarters stationed on this continent. There's a unit waiting to assist us, if we need it." He glanced down at the map again. They would most likely reach Dismal within the hour, and once they did, Sephiroth wanted to immediately get started with the investigation. He was not tired, and the sooner they could discover the truth behind the rumors, the sooner they would be able to do whatever needed to be done. Normally there would be various formalities first, but he doubted that they would apply in such an uncivilized territory. He would honestly be surprised if he found that anyone would bother with them.

Zack was silent for a moment. "So . . . what do you think's going on there, Seph?" he asked finally.

The other had expected that query. "I don't know. After the prison was built, Shinra mostly ignored Dismal. The few survivors weren't worth bothering about. I haven't heard anything in ages about what's left of that village." Sephiroth paused. "And, if they're planning a rebellion, being left alone was probably exactly what they wanted. Who knows what they might have gathered by now. The rumors may have leaked out because they're truly prepared for a battle."

"And that means, we could be walking into a trap," Zack surmised.

"In a word, Yes." Sephiroth studied the other's bloodshot eyes. "And you should try to get some more sleep before we arrive," he said in a flat tone. "Once we get there, you'll need to be as alert as possible."

Zack placed his hands behind his head as he settled against the softness of the backrest. "Sorry, Seph, I'm afraid I won't get any more alert than this," he answered. He was definitely worn out, but the conversation had awakened him enough that now he was even more certain that he would not be able to slumber until that night. And, depending on what happened, maybe not even then.

His comrade was thinking similar things. "You know how these missions tend to go," he said. "Oftentimes, they're anything but routine. Sleep while you have the opportunity."

Zack grinned. "Point taken. And that means you should sleep too, my friend." He stretched again, then swung his legs onto the seat as he moved to lay down on it.

"I've slept enough." Sephiroth reached for his glasses again.

"Hypocrite." Zack raised up, playfully swiping them out of his grasp. Then he held them level with his own eyes as he looked through them. He blinked, studying Sephiroth, the map, and the rest of the passengers in the train car. Then he turned his gaze to the window, as more tumbleweeds rolled past.

Sephiroth watched him, unfazed. "Well?" he asked.

Zack shook his head, setting the glasses back on the table. "They don't do anything for me," he reported.

"They're only for reading." Sephiroth took them up himself, applying them to his face as he pulled the map towards him again. It was true that there was not all that much to look at where they were going, but it was wisest to memorize the layout of all that there was. If it turned out that there was trouble, such information would be very useful.

"Yeah, well, they didn't help me read, either," Zack smiled.

Sephiroth ignored him. "There's also quicksand in the area," he said now. "It's around all of the prison walls. The only way to get inside is by activating a drawbridge at the front gate. And it can only be turned on from the security room inside the building."

Zack raised an eyebrow. "So did they deliberately put it up around the quicksand, or did that come later?" he wondered. "Either way, man, it sounds like anyone who wants to escape has it rough." He leaned over the table, propping himself up on an elbow. "I guess we'll be in for a party and a half."

Sephiroth glanced up at him over the top of the frames. "That's an interesting way to put it."

Zack smirked. "Why, thank you."

* * *

Even in spite of how his friend had described the area, Zack was still surprised and a bit stunned when he saw North Dismal, which they came to first. The wilderness continued all around and right on through, with the tents being the only immediate sign of civilization. The plate overhead cast a large shadow across the campgrounds, as if it was a constant raincloud hovering over the modest living quarters. From between the tents' flaps, he could see many cold, suspicious eyes peering out at both him and Sephiroth in the picture window of the train car. Involuntarily he shivered. 

"Hey, Seph," he said, glancing over at the other out of the corner of his eye, "do you think they realize we're the guys sent from Shinra? There's lots of people on board this thing."

Sephiroth barely looked up, not seeming to care as the miners stared. "It's possible that they could be aware of it," he answered, eyeing Zack's shoulder armor. The vehicle had slowed down immensely by this point, and the tracks were quite close to some of the tents. Details of the passengers nearest the windows could conceivably be viewed.

"They don't look too cheery," Zack frowned. Not that he blamed them. Whether they were associated with AVALANCHE or not, they were no doubt furious at Shinra for its attack on the village. And naturally they would not like the idea of more SOLDIERs coming, especially after all this time. Maybe they wondered if the meager rest that they had left would be razed. Or maybe they were planning that these SOLDIERs would not leave alive.

He leaned back, looking to the silver-haired man again. "Hey, Seph, who does run the prison, anyway?" he asked uneasily. "And what kind of people end up there as inmates?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a stone structure ahead. That, he assumed, must be their destination. It looked cold and unwelcoming, much as the residents' glares.

Sephiroth grunted. "It's run by some of the survivors of the attacks," he said. "Dismal has descended into the hands of vigilantes, so it's hard to say what kind of prisoners it has." But the disdain in his voice was obvious. When people took the law into their own hands, they often brought absurd sentences upon others for the most insignificant crimes, as well as not being able to keep track of those who were true threats. Not that official organizations did not do such things, as well. Sephiroth felt, however, that the latter were far more qualified to enact laws and punishments then ordinary laymen.

He glanced up as the train slowed further. The small station was quite close to the prison, which had been a source of concern for the railroad, as they feared that escaped convicts would try to board the trains. The warden had denied it as a possibility, saying that criminals would not be able to escape from the penitentiary, and that if they did, they would not get far enough to make it to the train station.

His eyes narrowed suddenly. With the current rate that they were slowing, compared with how close the station was approaching, it looked like they were not going to stop in time. The only way that they might make it would be if there was a sudden, abrupt halt. And that would probably create quite a bit of chaos. . . .

He barely had time to grab onto the table as the vehicle gave a violent jerk. Passengers around him yelped in surprise, and as the train strained to come to a stop at the station, some of them flew forward, into the aisles, or even onto the tables. Even Zack nearly suffered from this problem, but he gripped the sides of their table and struggled to hold on. As the motion finally ceased, and the pressure eased, Zack was thrown back violently against the seat, while Sephiroth pitched forward, half onto the wooden square.

Silence reigned for a moment, as everyone on board collected their bearings. At last Zack started to get up, shaking his head. "Man, whoever's up front isn't watching at all what he's doing!" he declared, a bit of irritation slipping into his voice. While he was generally an easy-going person, anything that could potentially put people's lives at risk made him annoyed. And carelessness was very high on that list.

Sephiroth looked vexed as well, as he pushed himself off the table and gathered his belongings. He did have a mind to report the incident to the railroad. But first, he was going to speak to the conductor, he determined, as he slid out of the booth and into a standing position. He wanted to know exactly why this had happened. He doubted the probability, but part of him still wondered if the train had been hijacked. There were reportedly many bandits roaming the area, and sometimes the vehicles were commandeered without warning. But he was certain he would have noticed if something such as that were taking place.

He cast his gaze around the car. The other people were also recovering from the experience, talking amongst themselves as they pondered over what the reason could be. Some of them still seemed dazed or overwhelmed, but no one seemed hurt, Sephiroth noted with approval. Of course, it could be a different story in the other cars.

"Go ahead and get off," he said to Zack, as he walked to the front. "I'll be along in a minute."

"I'll just go ahead and come with you," Zack shrugged, following him to the door leading into the next car. He had an idea of what Sephiroth was thinking. Apparently he was going to walk to the engine room, while checking on the people in the other cars along the way. Zack was also concerned on if the other passengers were alright, and he had to admit that he was curious to see how it would go when Sephiroth spoke to the conductor. And even if no one had been harmed, he was simply irritated himself at the sloppy halt. Perhaps he would even say something about it as well.

"Wow, everyone's staring at us," he smirked now. "I guess we're the only guys getting off at this stop. They probably think we're nuts or something."

"We probably are," Sephiroth responded.

"Touché," Zack commented, still smirking.

* * *

Sephiroth was not impressed as he pushed open the door of the engine room several moments later. The conductor was slumped over the main control panel, singing drunkenly as he turned switches and pulled levers in an almost random sort of way. To his side, on top of the console, was a half-empty liquor bottle. On his other side, the engineer stood looking helpless. 

Zack gave a low whistle as he peered inside, gripping the doorframe. "Well, that explains a few things," he said.

The silver-haired man frowned, walking in purposely and grabbing the intoxicated man's shoulder. "As charming as your concert is, it could have resulted in some of your passengers being seriously injured, or worse," he declared, with more than a little sarcasm dripping from each word. He and Zack had discovered a few minor bumps and bruises in the other cars, and one woman with a small cut on her forehead. They had certainly gotten off easily, but he did not intend that this man should as well. This was quite outrageous.

The conductor started under his grip. "Oh, hullo, sir!" he greeted, turning to blink glassy eyes at Sephiroth, who was looking at his most imposing. "It was pretty fun, wasn't it? Just like one of those 'musement park rides!"

Sephiroth gave him a look of disgust and glanced to the engineer. "Does this happen often?" he demanded.

The engineer shrugged helplessly. "This man isn't the usual conductor, sir. He's sick, so this one got sent to us to fill in. I swear, I had no idea that anything was amiss, until we nearly passed by the station! I came in to see what the problem was, and well, he was like this. . . ." He swallowed hard, the guilt obvious in his eyes. "I tried hard to get the train to stop, but I'm afraid it did cause an uproar. Is anyone hurt?"

"Not badly," Zack chimed in. "Mostly just shaken up."

Sephiroth nodded in agreement. "Do you know how to take over his job for the time being?" he said to the engineer. He knew that trains ran on strict schedules, and that for several reasons, it would not likely be possible for them to remain at this station while another conductor was found. And obviously, the current conductor could not do his job.

The other man blinked in surprise, but nodded. "I was a conductor for several years," he admitted.

"Good. Then don't let this train pull out with this man at the controls." Sephiroth turned abruptly, heading for the door again as his long hair swished out behind him. "See that his behavior is reported to the railroad."

"Y-yes, sir, I certainly will!" the engineer said, and immediately began to attempt to remove the conductor from his seat.

Unfortunately, the other did not want to go. "I have a train to run!" he yelped indignantly, his words slurred.

Sephiroth turned back in irritation, watching as Zack went over to assist.

"Sorry, man, you blew that one," declared the brunet, grabbing the obstinate drunk under his arm. Together, he and the engineer managed to extricate him, depositing him on the floor near the wall.

"And have that bottle confiscated," Sephiroth directed. He walked back through the door, not bothering to wait for Zack. In a moment, he heard the other's footsteps behind him.

* * *

Zack was surprised by the amount of smoke in the air as he and Sephiroth finally stepped down from the platform at the station. It was coming from the prison, he supposed, when he glanced in that direction and saw the tall smokestacks protruding from the building. Overall, the entire area had a very rundown, melancholy feeling, and the haze and smog only added to it. The name "Dismal" seemed all the more appropriate now. He glanced to Sephiroth, idly wondering what his friend thought of it. 

The older man's attention was focused, instead of on the sky and the air, toward a black automobile that was parked just ahead. A figure, seeing them approaching, had alighted from the back of the car and now was walking toward them.

Zack blinked curiously. "The warden?" he asked in a low tone.

Sephiroth nodded vaguely, moving forward more quickly to meet the other.

Zack hurried to keep up, trying to discreetly study the man. He was two or three inches shorter than Sephiroth, who was over six feet in height. His grey business suit's jacket stretched over his broad shoulders and muscles, and his brown hair was parted to the left and pulled into a ponytail at the back. As he came closer, Zack could see that his blue eyes seemed friendly enough, as did his smile. But still, something seemed wrong, something that he could not quite determine.

"Welcome to Dismal," he greeted in a pleasant voice, reaching to shake Sephiroth's hand. "We don't get many visitors here who aren't in prison . . . or who don't need to be," he added with a smirk, as the silver-haired man accepted.

Zack could not help the sarcastic thought of _Gee, I wonder why_ that passed through his mind.

"I'm Dalton, the prison warden," he continued, moving to shake Zack's hand now. "You're both most welcome to stay at my house during your inspection." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I don't remember catching your names. . . ."

"Well, we didn't throw them," Zack smiled in reply. "Zack Fair," he announced grandly.

Dalton nodded, pleased. "Ah yes, Zack." He looked to the other. "And you must be the warrior Sephiroth . . . ?"

"Just Sephiroth," he said in a flat tone.

Quickly he changed the subject. "As for your invitation, thank you, but we don't plan that we'll be here very long. This is just a routine investigation."

"Ah, but it's late," Dalton smiled, "and Midgar is such a far piece away. Do at least plan to stay the night. You'll be able to conduct your investigation much better on a good sleep and a scrumptious meal. My maids have already been preparing it."

Zack crossed his arms. "Well, you've convinced me," he grinned, and looked to Sephiroth. Of course, the other would have the final say, but Zack had a feeling that his fellow SOLDIER would, indeed, wish to remain. There was something too polished in Dalton's tones. His friendliness seemed forced, fake. It seemed to Zack that it would be wisest to linger and try to determine the cause of it. If something truly was happening here, Dalton was probably involved. But they would need to appear completely oblivious to it.

Sephiroth caught Zack's eye and gave a barely imperceptible nod. Then he looked back to Dalton. "Alright," he agreed. "We'll stay through the night."

Dalton was extremely pleased. "Wonderful," he declared, and turned to lead them to the car. They followed slowly, each wondering exactly what they were getting into this time.


	2. One House

**Chapter Two**

The ride to Dismal was filled largely with small talk on Dalton's part. Zack had decided that it would be best to let Sephiroth make the replies, but the silver-haired man seemed unwilling to say more than short, coolly polite sentences. Dalton did not seem bothered by this, though Zack noticed that he would then pose the same queries to Zack, as if wondering if the brunet would respond differently.

The questions appeared innocent enough. Dalton asked how Midgar was, what it was like to be in SOLDIER, and if Shinra had any plans for what was left of the village. Sephiroth said that Midgar was fine, that being in SOLDIER was only for those who were strong enough to meet the challenge, and that Shinra had no immediate plans for Dismal. Zack knew that that would change, however, if there truly was an uprising in the works. Sephiroth did not voice this, though as he spoke, he did give Dalton a dark, warning stare. If Dalton received the silent message, he did not give any indication of it.

His home was right next door to the prison, and Zack had to admit, when he saw it he was surprised at the modern and well-to-do feel compared to the rundown-looking building beside it. The abode was not visible from the train tracks, or Zack would have noticed it then. He wondered how there had been enough money to construct such a pleasant residence.

Apparently, so did Sephiroth.

"Your prison's walls are in need of repair," he observed as they parked.

Dalton nodded amiably. "That they are," he agreed.

"And the stone wall around the grounds is cracked and split."

"Very true."

"Yet somehow you have enough money to live in a house that only a wealthy man could afford." Sephiroth nodded to the tall, perfectly intact brick gate, the manor's crisp white paint, and the sprawling levels with their many windows. There were at least two main floors, along with an attic and a basement. The yard was spacious as well, and though the area did not permit there to be grass, the landscape was quite enjoyable, with various rock formations and local plants scattered about in a natural, yet somehow professional looking way. To the left of the walkway to the porch was a large fountain, with water spilling over from three levels of bowls, each one larger than the one above it.

Dalton chuckled. "And you find it a contradiction," he said, as the door was opened by his chauffeur. He stepped out onto the dirt driveway, then waited for his guests.

"Would it surprise you if I said yes?" Sephiroth retorted as he also exited the vehicle.

"Man, a lot of people don't live this good even in a big city like Midgar," Zack exclaimed as he followed suit.

"A great man needs a great house, wouldn't you say?" Dalton said as he led them up the walkway to the large, wrap-around porch. Getting out his keyring, he found the proper object to let them into the house. Inserting it into the lock, he turned it and opened the door.

"We have a name for that kind of talk," Sephiroth grunted. He watched their host go in first, then stepped into the expansive parlor as well. "It's called blowing your own horn."

Dalton only smirked. "Here in Dismal, it's truthful," he said. "Not only am I the prison warden, I'm the mayor, and the only officer of law and order it has." He pocketed the keys and walked forward, his shoes clicking on the tiled floor.

Zack shut the door behind him as he entered. "So how do you catch all the bandits running around if you're the only guy on the job?" he frowned.

It was hard not to simply stop and gape at the room. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, weighed down with many sparkling prisms that danced and caught the light of the bulbs, then carried the glow all around the area. There were various potted plants in key locations, and the furniture looked as if it had been imported from Wutai. At any rate, the handmade rugs on the floor certainly must have came from that land.

He wished he knew why he had the nagging feeling that someone was watching them. Unless someone was using a security camera, there was not any place suitable for hiding and spying.

"Bandits?" Dalton repeated. "There are no bandits here. That's just misinformation carried abroad by those who wish to cast a bad light on what's left of the village. They misplace their items, and being too embarrassed to say so, they make up stories about the bandits. Come, I'll take you both on a tour of the house and show you to your rooms for the night." He walked ahead and turned to the right, passing by the staircase leading to the second floor and heading for a long hallway.

Zack looked to Sephiroth. "What do you think?" he asked.

"He's hiding something," Sephiroth answered. "That should be obvious. And he skillfully dodged the inquiry as to how he manages to pay for this house. I doubt it's been bought through legal means." With that, he also walked by, intending to catch up to Dalton. They would be polite, for now, and anyway, becoming familiar with the layout of this abode would be useful. If he or Zack found anything that looked remotely suspicious, he would want to try to get a better look at it later, when Dalton would be asleep. If there was anything incriminating, it might be more likely to be in this house as opposed to the prison, since he and Zack would be inspecting that building the next day.

Zack watched him go. It did seem likely that what he was saying could be true. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, how would anyone ever be able to live in a place so grand? Dalton did not even work for Shinra, or any other companies or businesses. Everyone had to work for themselves, and in a broken-down village such as this, that often meant becoming mercenaries or bounty hunters. So, what was it that he could be doing to earn money? Was he selling something on the black market? And what about the people he governed? Why would they feel that an arrangement of him having the only house and them staying out in tents was a good thing? Now there were more questions than answers.

He half-turned, intending to follow the others. But he stopped, his eyes narrowed with certainty. Someone was definitely there. And now he had an idea where that someone was concealed. He looked up at the large potted plant at the top of the stairs. It looked normal, or at least, it did until a wide leaf abruptly twitched. Curious now, he stepped closer. Was that an eye gleaming from amongst the foliage and the lavender and white flowers?

"First time I've seen a plant move on its own when there's no wind," he commented, loud enough that he hoped the criminal would hear.

A sound met his ears then, a sound very much like a giggle.

By now Zack was amused. "That's a really unique specimen this Dalton guy's got," he said. "I wonder if it can talk too?" He started up the stairs, keeping his gaze fixed on the object all the while. Now it did not move or laugh, but held perfectly still and silent. But the brunet could see a glimpse of something within it. As he reached the top, he stood looking at the spacious leaves for a long moment, as if in deep thought. Then, without warning he lunged, clapping his hands around them. "Gotcha!" he declared.

There was a shriek of delight, followed by more giggles. Then a small body popped out of the plant's center as little hands grabbed at Zack's arms.

"I thought so!" he said, lifting the child out and setting her on her feet. "We've got a stowaway!"

She grinned up at him, displaying her white teeth. "You're fun!" she said. "Mr. Dalton would've just yelled. I knew people were coming to stay here, 'cause I saw the maids fixing up the rooms. And I wanted to see! So I hid in the plant to watch!"

Zack bent down to her eye level. "Well," he replied, "I'm glad you did." He held out his hand. "Zack Fair, at your service."

She shook his hand, seeming thrilled with the positive attention. "I'm Maryn!" she announced.

"Maryn," Zack repeated. "I'm very glad to meet you." He took in her curled, shoulder-length red hair and her bright green eyes. "Hey, my best friend has eyes just about that color," he remarked.

"The man with the really, really long hair?" she chirped, gesturing with her hands down to her knees. "He wasn't smiling."

Zack chuckled. "He can look gruff, but don't let him fool ya. He's one of the best guys I know, long hair and all."

He could not help wondering what this little girl was doing here. She could not be older than five, possibly six, and since she did not appear to be related to Dalton, he wondered if she was the daughter of one of the maids. She was dressed in a new lavender dress with white trim that matched the flowers, and though Zack was not that familiar with various fabrics, he could see that this was made of a fine material. In any case, this was not a good place for a child. The house was nice, but it was the surroundings that concerned Zack. Well, the surroundings and the people.

"So tell me, Maryn, how did you come to end up out here in the great desert village of Dismal?" he queried.

She shrugged, some of her cheerfulness fading. "Mr. Dalton has to take care of me," she said after a short pause, "but he doesn't really want to." She might have said more, were they not suddenly interrupted.

"Here now! What's this?"

Both of them whirled around to look down the stairs. Dalton had came back, and he had his hand on the bottom of the banister, frowning in disapproval. Sephiroth stood next to him, raising an eyebrow as he gave Zack a questioning look. He crossed his arms, glancing from Zack to Maryn and back again.

"Really, Maryn, you should know better than this," Dalton scolded. "Don't bother Mr. Fair. He's a busy man and doesn't have time for childish games." He placed one foot on the first step, as if he was about to ascend, but then simply stayed where he was currently located. He seemed to think that he would be threatening enough without moving further.

Zack frowned now, straightening up. "Maryn wasn't bothering me," he said. "Actually, we were having a good chat." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her starting to smile again.

Now Dalton raised an eyebrow incredulously. "Well . . ." He shook his head, turning away. "If you'd care to join us on the tour, Mr. Fair, I'm sure you'll find something of interest."

Zack knew that it would be best for him to comply, and from Sephiroth's expression, the older man felt the same. "Sure," the brunet said, and looked back to Maryn. "Maybe we can talk more later, okay?" he suggested. He definitely wanted to hear the rest of her story, and he could tell that she was lonely. It did not surprise him. There was probably never anyone for her to play with or talk to. And he could already tell that it was a headache living with Dalton.

Now the child brightened and nodded. She did not speak, having seemed to retreat into a shell while Dalton was there.

Zack patted her head and jogged down the stairs, where their host was already heading down the hall again. "She was spying on me from the potted plant," he said by way of explanation to Sephiroth's continuing raised eyebrow stare. "Or both of us, really." He smirked, poking the other on his upper arm. "She thinks you don't smile."

Sephiroth ignored that remark. "What's she doing here?" he asked in a low tone as he started to walk toward the long corridor. "I wouldn't think this environment would be child-friendly."

"It's not," Zack agreed, as he followed alongside the silver-haired man. "And I'm not sure. She was saying something about Dalton being an unwilling guardian, but he butted in on us right then. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was on purpose." He placed his hands behind his head. "So, how far did you get before you realized I'd flown the coop?"

"This room," Sephiroth responded, nodding to the second door on the right. "He took me through the drawing room and the sitting room, and then we were in the library when he discovered your absence. I'd noticed almost immediately, but I said nothing, in case you had seen something that you wanted to investigate further."

"And I guess you could say I did," Zack smirked.

Sephiroth gave him a sidelong glance. "Are you already attached?" he inquired.

"Oh . . . I wouldn't say that," Zack mused. "Cute kid, though."

Now Sephiroth smirked slightly. "I think she's attached," he informed the other. "The look she gave you was one degree away from idol worship."

Zack was unfazed. "She was probably just happy to have someone who'd really talk to her." He did not say more on the subject, and Sephiroth did not press the matter.

* * *

The house and its many rooms were ostentacious, or so Sephiroth decided. They were filled with artifacts from the different lands and continents---vases, tapestries, armor---and most of them were from Wutai. Sephiroth recognized the style all too well, after the battle he had fought there in the past. There were also old and rare volumes, on subjects from philosophy, to religion, and even the wars of Gaia, coupled with _The Art of Warfare_. Zack frowned when he noticed the latter. If Sephiroth saw that book, he did not give any indication of it. 

There were several locations throughout the manor that the silver-haired man committed to memory for later inspection. Among them were two certain bricks in the library's fireplace that seemed out of place with the rest, as well as a section of a wall in the den that was a lighter shade than the space around it. Those spots could be perfectly innocent and normal, but on the other hand, they could be concealing secret passages and trapdoors. Perhaps behind them were clues as to how Dalton's money flourished.

"Well," said Dalton presently, "what do you think?" By now they were standing in the attic, which seemed clean and fresh, and was serving as a storage area. Boxes were stacked about, both on the floor and on metal shelves that were against the walls. There was an old floor lamp with a blue shade in a corner, a matching blue table lamp on top of a box, and a jade statue of a cat on a nearby shelf. The thought idly crossed Sephiroth's mind that it seemed especially odd for the figurine to be hidden away. It would fit with the decor of the house quite well.

Zack nodded approvingly. "Nice place you've got here," he said in an honest tone. He was truly impressed with the quality of the building, especially when it was out in the desert. But he certainly did wonder what secrets it was hiding, and he also was perplexed as to why these particular items in view had been placed here. They were in perfectly good condition, from what he could see.

Sephiroth nodded as well. "Obviously you have some way of earning funds," he mused then, again quietly inviting Dalton to share his tale---even if it would be a truthless one.

"Money doesn't come easily out on the desert," Dalton answered with a supposedly friendly smile. Sephiroth had the feeling that there was thinly veiled venom behind it---perhaps hatred for Shinra. "But we get by. I've taken out some stock in businesses that are on the golden plate just to the north of here. It proves . . . quite profitable."

"So I see." It was a reasonable explanation, even a sensible one. Maybe it was even true, to an extent. Sephiroth silently mused over exactly what kinds of businesses might be up there in which to invest stock. The term was probably being used lightly.

"I thought it was just an amusement park and a hotel up there," Zack broke in, crossing his arms, "and a casino or two."

Sephiroth briefly glanced at the other. Zack had voiced the thoughts that he himself had been pondering upon. As far as he knew, there was not anything else. The golden plate was purely a tourist trap.

Dalton blinked in surprise at the remark. "Why . . . yes," he said then, chuckling, "that's about it. I guess there's no harm in saying I'm a gambler." He gestured at the walls of the attic. "It paid off, wouldn't you say?"

Zack gave a low whistle. "I'll say. Don't suppose that kinda luck is contagious, do you?"

Dalton looked amused. "You never can tell." He strolled out of the room and back to the narrow stairs, calmly descending them to the second floor. When he heard the other two following him, he headed down the hall until he came to two doors in particular. These he flung open, revealing the bedrooms beyond.

"And here," he declared, "are your rooms, gentlemen. Hopefully they'll be adequate."

Zack peered into the first one he came to. It was quite spacious, with a high ceiling, a small but fancy chandelier, and furniture made of oak. The canopy bed instantly looked welcoming, and Zack had to quickly stifle a yawn he felt rising in his throat. He diverted his attention by glancing at the barred, picture window directly across from them.

"Wow, home sweet home," he remarked wryly. "Hey, Seph, looks like the prison influenced some of the decor!" And he was not certain he liked it. He knew that he was likely to feel like one of the convicts every time he was in the room.

From Sephiroth's expression, he was thinking the same thing. And it would be so easy to transform the bedrooms into cells, if it was wished. They would have to be on guard, in case for some reason the doors would suddenly be locked from the outside. "What is the explanation for this?" he demanded, looking to their host.

Dalton shrugged. "Just a precaution," he explained casually, "in case there's a prison break next door and they try to commandeer the house." He half-turned, waving it away with his hand. "But that won't be happening, I can assure you. There is nothing to be concerned about." Now he started to head for the stairs. "Feel free to freshen up for dinner. It will most likely be on the table by the time you both are through."

Sephiroth observed him quietly. That may be so, he thought, but it seemed to him that Dalton was trying to break away now that the conversation had switched to the topic of a prison break. And it was too convenient.

"You say there aren't actually any bandits," he spoke, watching Dalton halt at the top of the staircase. Had he stiffened slightly, as well? "Who is being incarcerated in the penitentiary?"

The man laughed slightly. "Oh . . . no one much. Just the few villagers foolish enough to break the rules." His tone sounded ominous, and Sephiroth and Zack exchanged a look at his words. Before either could continue the line of questioning, he was halfway down the steps. "I'll see you both in a few minutes!" he called.

Zack frowned. "Yeah . . . sure!" he replied hesitantly with a small wave.

He turned back to his friend. "Well . . . what do you think of this one, Seph?" he asked in a low tone. "What rules do you figure they've got in a . . ." He lowered his voice further. ". . . A dump like this?"

Sephiroth shook his head, his green eyes narrowed in a grim way. "I don't know," he muttered. "It's something we'll have to get him to tell us." He walked to the doorway of the other open room, placing his hand on the frame before looking back.

"I doubt that even if his luck is superb, he would have been able to win enough currency to construct this establishment," he remarked.

Zack nodded immediately. "Yeah, same here," he said. "But man . . . does he really think we'll be stupid enough to fall for these stories he's feeding us?"

"Who knows. He and his people are asinine, if they're planning to go up against Shinra and attack Midgar. But somehow I doubt that he thinks we're brainless, just cruel and power-hungry." Sephiroth looked annoyed. "Maybe he wants to taunt us by speaking to us as if we're idiots."

Zack smirked slightly. "And that would definitely be a good way to get at you, huh, Seph?"

Sephiroth grunted, removing his hand from the woodwork. "For now, we'll play his game and prepare for dinner," he said, ignoring Zack's comment.

Zack nodded in agreement. "Sure thing." He continued to smirk. "Gotta say, food is sounding really good right now. So's that bed." Three hours of sleep were definitely beginning to catch up with him. He wished that he had been able to nap on the train. Now, in addition to feeling as though he would doze any moment, his body was aching, as it often did when he had not gotten enough rest. He wondered if Sephiroth ever had that problem, or if he had managed to train himself to not perceive it, if he did.

"Hopefully you'll have a chance to use it," Sephiroth said. "At some point tonight, we're going to need to investigate a few things in this house."

Zack shook his head in a mock woebegone way. "I was afraid you'd say that," he whimpered with an accompanying moan. Then he snickered and vanished into the room.

Sephiroth watched him go, then smirked slightly to himself as he turned and entered the other room. Zack could come across as such a foolish person, when he wanted to. But he was one of the smartest and most reliable men the warrior knew. If anyone believed otherwise, then that person was the true fool.

* * *

Dinner was more like a banquet. The main course was fried chicken on a platter in the middle of the table. Surrounding it were bowls of mashed potatoes, three kinds of gravy, yams, peas and green beans, and cranberry sauce. Their places were already set, and Maryn was at the table, struggling to pour herself a glass of ice water. The full pitcher wobbled, and she clutched it desperately, her expression scrunched in worried concentration. 

Zack quickly sized up the situation and walked over to her. "Need some help?" he said grandly.

She looked up, instantly brightening as he leaned over and held the crystal container steady for her as the water flowed into the glass. "Mr. Zack!" she beamed.

"Oooh, just Zack," he smiled, assisting in setting the pitcher safely back on the table. "'Mister' makes me feel so old."

"Okay, Zack!" she said agreeably as she sat down. "Will you sit by me?"

"I'd be honored." The brunet began to dish up his food, then laid the plate by the seat next to hers. Sephiroth, who had gathered his own portions while Zack had been helping with the water, chose the next place. Dalton was next to him and across from Maryn, as the guests were both sitting at the end of the long table.

"It seems," Dalton commented in a low voice, "that your associate has quickly made friends with young Maryn." He sounded casual enough, if one did not pay special attention, but Sephiroth was definitely doing exactly that. To him, there was an undercurrent of displeasure in their host's tone. He did not care for this development, and the SOLDIER wondered why, though he definitely had his suspicions.

"Zack has that affect on most people," Sephiroth answered curtly. It had taken him a bit longer to warm up to the cheerful, easy-going brunet, whose personality was so different from the silver-haired man's own serious, reserved nature. But Zack had been persistent, as he always was, and somehow they had wound up being close friends as well as comrades. Sometimes Sephiroth would even play along with Zack's jokes, delivering some comeback or another. The raven-haired man had managed to encourage the other to open parts of his personality that he generally kept hidden.

"Including the little ones."

Sephiroth nodded. "Yes." He knew that Zack especially liked them. Sometimes he had mentioned looking after the village children in his hometown of Gongoga, and how it was like having two dozen younger siblings. Sephiroth was not certain what he thought about it. At any rate, it sounded as though they would have always kept Zack busy. The green-eyed man could easily imagine Zack running around the town, trying to keep track of everyone and to keep them out of mischief---and probably not always succeeding.

To Sephiroth, it seemed as though it would be a headache. He always imagined looking after many kids to be akin to him trying to teach the various new SOLDIER recruits. No, on second thought, it would probably be worse. He had quite a bit of patience, and often enjoyed what he did, but even his good nature could be strained at times by the various havoc that would inadvertantly get created. He had the feeling that he could never do what Zack had accomplished in Gongoga. So very many juveniles would overwhelm him, not that he would ever admit it.

"And what about you, sir?"

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, turning to study Dalton questioningly.

The brown-haired man looked amused. "You don't exactly seem the sort who would appreciate children bothering you." He held a goblet as he spoke, swishing around the liquid inside.

"I don't." But that did not mean that Sephiroth disliked all children. On the contrary, he was quite accepting of them when they were not the types to be constantly and deliberately causing trouble, or always getting into things they should not. He would not say so, however. He was not in the mood, and he wanted to see how Dalton would react.

"Ah, Maryn would be a hardship for you, then." Dalton smirked ruefully, looking to her and Zack quite happily chatting before turning his attention back to Sephiroth. "She's always underfoot, or into something, or asking some irrelevant question when I need to be working. I can never have any peace. I'm sure you understand." He leaned back, sipping from the goblet.

Sephiroth actually thought that Maryn seemed to be a sweet child, and not one who would be extremely inquisitive and hard to handle. He bit slowly into the piece of chicken, chewing and swallowing before glancing over at Dalton once more. "Then why is she here?" he asked, not acknowledging the other's last comment.

Dalton shrugged. "Her family died when the mako reactor exploded," he explained. "Both of her parents were working there at the plant. She doesn't have any other living relatives, and since the villagers of Dismal look after each other, I felt it my duty to take her in." He shook his head. "I won't deny I wish she had somewhere else to go, but what can I do?"

Sephiroth nodded slowly. He had not expected that explanation, but it made sense. And it gave him another of the openings for which he had been searching. "You say the villagers look after each other," he mused. "It's interesting, then, that it was some of those very villagers who detonated the mako reactor and directly caused the deaths of everyone in close proximity." He noted Dalton's expression suddenly becoming tight, but he did not stop there. "Would you mind explaining to me how such actions could be considered as 'looking after each other'?"

The other man placed the goblet back on the table and suddenly became very involved with eating his food. Sephiroth simply waited, eating as well. Dalton was either collecting his thoughts or else trying not to get angry---or both.

At last the warden made a show of wiping his mouth with the napkin before looking back up at Sephiroth. "The reactor malfunctioned on its own, as we've told Shinra many times," he said. "No one deliberately set it off. None of us would have done anything so foolish."

"And yet there are witnesses who identified certain townspeople as being part of the rebel faction AVALANCHE, and who said that they were seen breaking into the reactor room immediately prior to its explosion." Sephiroth knew that this discussion would get nowhere, if he planned to attempt having the final word. His pride certainly wanted that, but he knew that he had to concentrate on the goal at hand, which was to find anything questionable in the other's words, anything that could be helpful in this investigation.

Dalton snorted. "Most likely they were paid by Shinra to say those things." He gave Sephiroth a sideways glance. "You're their favorite SOLDIER, everyone knows that. And being so highly ranked, you must have access to a lot of information that other SOLDIERs would not have, maybe not even your friend." He nodded to Zack, but never took his gaze away from Sephiroth. "You probably know the truth about what happened here, and if you don't, you could most likely find out." He paused thoughtfully. "Unless you're really a marionette yourself, under the control of Shinra, and you honestly believe you're fighting for righteousness even if you are not. But I highly doubt it. You're too intelligent to not know what Shinra truly is doing."

Sephiroth did, indeed, believe that he knew the truth about the Dismal incident, but he knew there was not any point in saying so. In any case, he appreciated Zack continuing to speak with the girl. The brunet genuinely wanted to talk with her, but he also realized what Sephiroth wanted and that keeping Maryn distracted for a while would enable him to converse with their host and hopefully discern something that would prove profitable to them.

"And what do you think Shinra is doing?" Sephiroth asked calmly.

Dalton shoved a forkful of gravy-drenched mashed potatoes into his mouth. "They want control of this entire world!" he said in between chews. He swallowed, reaching for the goblet again. "Any time anyone is unhappy with the idea of their reign, another area ends up like Dismal . . . or worse." He gulped down the liquid and then set the glass aside. Though he was still speaking quietly, the fuel in his voice now was obvious. "Some of these places have been put under Shinra rule. Dismal was let off easy."

"Shinra is only aggressive when they or their lands are threatened," Sephiroth responded. "Surely you don't find it an abomination to defend oneself against assaults?"

"It's how and when they do it that's the abomination!" Dalton retorted. He gripped the fork tightly, looking as though he wanted to stab it into something other than a potato. "Look at Dismal, razed to the ground!"

"The people of Dismal were responsible for at least half of that," Sephiroth grunted. "As for Shinra finishing what was started, such drastic measures would not have been taken if they had not been deemed necessary." He ate slowly, looking at his plate, and then raised his gaze to Dalton's. "And you realize, that if we find evidence that an uprising is now being planned, we will retaliate."

"Of course." Dalton seemed to relax suddenly, as if his inner "fury switch" had been turned off. He smiled amiably, as if nothing had angered him at all. "But there is nothing for you to worry about. There is no uprising."

"So it's another story thought up by the same people who tell about the bandits?" Sephiroth returned dryly.

Dalton blinked, then chuckled quietly. "Yes," he said, "yes, I imagine so."


	3. Latenight Explorations, and Dreams

**Chapter Three**

_The room was dingy and old, with gray being the predominant color. There was no telling when the last time was that the walls had been painted or even simply cleaned. Now, however, a new hue had been added, one that was striking and eerie. Crimson was splattered everywhere---on the walls, the floor, the windows. . . . And the reason for it was sprawled all over the cement flooring. Bodies, both dead and wounded, were strewn all across his path. There had been some kind of a fight._

_Instinctively, he knew that he had been part of it, that he was injured himself. His mind's eye darkened, leaving the dream black. But sounds continued, and he heard his dream self's footsteps running across the floor, followed by a gasp and a whispered exclamation. Then his voice was panicked, and echoing, as if from far away._

_"Seph! Hey! Speak to me!" A brief pause. "Seph . . . no. . . . You can't be . . ."_

Zack started awake, his eyes flying open in the darkness. He was breathing heavily, his spiked locks falling across his face and plastered against his neck, and he was gripping the edges of the pillow.

He pushed himself up slightly on his elbows, looking ahead at the headboard and the wall. "Man . . ." he muttered aloud to the emptiness of the room. "Somethin' I ate must've disagreed with me." He rolled over, sitting up on the soft mattress and drawing one of his legs up to his chest.

Dreams were not something he had a lot of---at least, not serious ones that left him in a cold sweat. He was used to the usual, bizarre, kaleidoscope of ever-changing scenes when he fell asleep, as his mind tried to make sense of everything that he was thinking and feeling. And he had honestly not been afraid that something would happen to Sephiroth. It had never really crossed his mind, despite knowing that they could end up in a vicious battle before they would be able to leave this place.

It was not that he thought Sephiroth was indestructible, per se, just that he imagined the other would be able to ward off any possible injuries to himself. He had not ever seen the green-eyed man hurt before, though there had been the time when he had come down ill with a fever and had been delirious for hours. It had pained Zack, to see him like that, to not be able to do anything except to be there. And he did not want to see his friend suffer again.

He shook his head, running a hand through his raven tresses. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, that incubus had left him shaken. Everything had seemed so very real, from the detailed room that he knew he had never seen to the bodies laying all over the floor. He had seen several of their faces quite plainly, and felt that he would recognize them if he ever saw them in real life. But he had never really believed in being able to see the future. If that nightmare meant something, was it what would be . . . or what might be?

A creaking noise jolted him back to the present, and he looked up quickly as the door inched open. Sephiroth peered into the room, seeming to be wide awake and quite alright.

"I thought you'd be asleep," he remarked.

Zack grinned, pushing aside any and all of his irrational fears. "I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me and went to search the place yourself," he said. "Do you _ever_ sleep, Seph?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling on his boots before pushing himself up. Then he swiped his gloves off the nightstand, working his hands into them as he came over to the door.

"You should know," Sephiroth retorted, watching him. "Once you sleepwalked into my quarters, fell on me, and woke me up."

Zack smirked. "But you were already awake by the time I woke up to you shoving me off," he said lightly, walking past the other into the hall. "How do I know you were really asleep before that?"

Sephiroth grunted as he followed, then came ahead of Zack and led him to the staircase. Most of the lights were out; the only ones on were dim nightlights installed in the ceiling, casting shadows across the walls and the floor. They were not certain which bedroom was Dalton's, but they were not eager to find out. They crept down the stairs, perfectly soundless, and then turned to the steps' left.

"Are we going to check out the attic too?" Zack whispered as they made their way down the corridor. "No telling what might actually be in those boxes."

Sephiroth nodded. "If we have time." He reached the library and quietly turned the knob, pushing the door open just enough for him and Zack to squeeze through. As he walked forward, he reached over and switched on the light. The gentle glow bathed the furniture and the volumes, and illuminated the fireplace and mantle.

He walked over to it, idly hearing Zack softly close the door behind them. Carefully he reached for one of the bricks in question. As he had suspected, it was loose, and as he began to wiggle it, it pulled free with a scraping moan. He narrowed his eyes in irritation at the noise. Hopefully it was not loud enough that anyone outside of the room would hear. He did not know whether any of the maids engaged in latenight cleaning. He placed the object on top of the mantle and pulled out the small flashlight to shine in the hole.

Next to him, Zack found the other odd brick and got the tips of his fingers on it, frowning as he attempted to tug it away. "Looks like I got the stubborn one," he commented low, and pulled harder. No matter how he struggled, it would not budge an inch.

Sephiroth glanced down at him, frowning slightly. "Try using a fire poker," he suggested.

"Good idea." Zack walked around to Sephiroth's other side, pulling out one of the three sharp poles from the rack. He smacked the stick part in his hand once or twice, as if it was a whip, and then moved back to the obstinate brick. Placing the tip of the poker against the underside of the rectangular edge, he braced himself, putting a foot against the wall as he again started to pull.

He strained harder, gritting his teeth in frustration as it still refused to come loose. Maybe Sephiroth was wrong, and it was not like the first one. The different color would not have to mean that it was concealing something. They might have simply ran out of the old color, and maybe this brick had needed replacing, no matter the shade. Honestly, if he could not get results right away, he was going to abandon this effort.

Without warning it suddenly popped free, sending the unprepared Zack harshly to the carpeted floor. He gasped in surprise, dropping the poker and tensing as he waited for the sound of the brick thumping down. But it did not come. Slowly he rose up on an elbow, blinking as he saw it sticking half out of the wall.

Sephiroth glanced down at him from where he had been examining the empty space. "We're lucky it didn't hit the floor," he muttered.

"Yeah . . ." Zack sat up slowly, studying it with a thoughtful frown. Why had it remained there instead of falling? The pressure should have pulled it out all the way. He leaned over, taking hold of the edge and sliding the object towards him and then back. "Hey," he said in realization, "I don't think this is supposed to come out." He looked up at Sephiroth, who was raising an eyebrow. "What if it's supposed to be pushed, not pulled?"

Of course. It could be some sort of lever. Sephiroth felt annoyed that he had not thought of the possibility. "Try it," he urged.

Zack shoved the brick back into the wall, and when he used force, it went in further than normal. There was a click, and Sephiroth quickly stepped back as a quiet whirring noise began to emanate from behind the fireplace. In the next moment, it swung open, revealing a dark passageway beyond it.

Now Zack got to his feet, blinking in surprise at the sight. "This guy really doesn't miss a trick," he said.

Sephiroth walked past him, switching on his flashlight. The tunnel was bare, as far as he could see, but after it went ahead for a while, it abruptly turned to the right. He stepped silently onto the stone floor, beginning to proceed into the opening. It was likely, he imagined, that they would not find anything. Maybe Dalton even realized that they would be searching his house. But at least they would be able to discover where the passage would lead, unless the other end was blocked.

Zack moved to follow him, narrowing his eyes as he saw the cement floor. Instantly his dream rushed back. But then he shook his head, pressing forward into the space. This was not the scene from his nightmare. He was letting his imagination run away with him. Anyway, this floor seemed quite clean and well taken of, unlike what had been shown to him.

Shown to him? He smirked slightly in the near-darkness. Now he really was sounding as if it was something that had a meaning and would come to pass. By morning he would have forgotten all about it.

He started as the whirring sound came again, and a prick of concern came over him. That could only be one thing. . . .

Quickly he turned back, throwing himself against the insistent panel and pushing with all of his might. He could hear Sephiroth making his way back over as well, and together they struggled with it. But it was no use. They skidded along the floor as the door pulled itself shut, locking them inside.

Zack shook his head, turning to slump against the wall. "Now what?" He had not stopped to think that they might become trapped. And it would not do if they were discovered by Dalton or one of his maids. Even if Dalton had been expecting something like this, it would look very unprofessional on their parts. And that was the last thing that either he or Sephiroth wanted.

Despite the dim light, it was obvious that the older man was exasperated. "Let's see where this leads," he instructed, "and if we can't get out that way, then we'll have to come back and try to release the brick from this side." Of course there would have to be a way to get out from the inside, but it was possible that it would not be in working order as long as no one was supposed to there. Hopefully that would not be the case. There was not any telling how long the air might last, either.

Sephiroth turned again, his long hair sweeping out around him. He should have inspected both sides of the fireplace wall more closely before they entered. Or else he should have found a way to prop the panel open, though he had not done so because it would clearly signal their presence if a maid happened upon the room for some reason. But not doing so may have proven to have caused more harm than good.

He shined the flashlight up and down the corridor as he walked ahead. So far, there was nothing to see, but it had obviously been used or at least cleaned recently. There were not even any visible cobwebs, and those could appear within a mere few days of neglect.

He could hear Zack fall into step beside him. Somehow he could sense that the other was thinking about something, but when he finally spoke, the topic was a surprise.

"Hey, Seph . . . do you ever have dreams that . . . you know . . . are more than dreams?"

He turned the corner, shining the light down the next hallway. It looked just as empty as the first, and at the end, it turned to the left.

"You mean a prophetic dream?" he answered, walking ahead without looking back.

Zack again followed. "I guess so," he said slowly.

Sephiroth raised the flashlight to study the ceiling, but there was nothing that seemed out of place---no trapdoors, racks, or shelves to store weapons. He brought the beam across the walls, with the same result.

"No," he said, "I never have."

Zack laughed a bit, sounding uneasy. "Didn't think so."

Sephiroth grunted. "Do you think you've had one?"

"Nah." The brunet grinned, the awkwardness passing. "Can you imagine me as any kind of prophet?"

"Frankly, no."

Zack started to quietly tap some of the walls. "That goes both ways, though," he said with light mirth.

"Heh." Sephiroth decided to let the matter drop. He could clearly tell that something concerning a dream was bothering Zack, but the other did not wish to discuss it and Sephiroth would respect that. Instead, he turned his attention to feeling along the opposite side of the wall.

"After dinner, Maryn said that she wishes we could get her out of here when we go."

Now the silver-haired man raised an eyebrow. He glanced over his shoulder at Zack, who was still facing the wall as he softly knocked on it.

"What did you tell her?" They were SOLDIERs, not baby-sitters. Sephiroth hoped Zack had not made any promises. But of course, if the uprising occured and Dalton was involved---as it seemed he must be---then they would, indeed, try to do something to help the child. If Dalton was not killed during the mess, he would have to be taken into custody and brought to trial, as would any other survivors who were part of the rebellion. And the chances were great that any rebels would be executed. In such a case, the only people left at the house would be the maids, and they would not wish to remain without pay.

Zack walked several feet up the hall. "I said I'd see what we could do," he replied.

Sephiroth sighed. "You'll get her hopes up."

"They already are." Zack looked over his shoulder. "You wouldn't expect me to shatter them, would you, Seph?"

The silver-haired man followed after him. These walls were not hollow. If anything had been here, it had definitely been taken away. He walked around Zack, heading for the lefthand turn.

"I think we need to be realistic," he said.

"Aww . . . have a heart." Zack caught up to the other just as he was rounding the bend, which looked identical to its counterparts. The brunet began to wonder if they would ever find a way out. At any rate, maybe it would be impossible to do so without attracting attention to themselves.

"It would be worse to let her believe she will be liberated, when she might not be, rather than to refrain from encouraging any hopes she already possesses." Again came the probing of the walls and the searching of the ceiling, with the same results. Nothing was out of place. And what was more, it looked like this time, there was not another corridor. If, at the end of this one, there was not a moving panel, they were trapped unless they could force open the fireplace again.

Zack knew that he was right. But that did not do anything to change his mind. After all, he was almost one hundred percent sure that something was amiss. And if anything was, then Maryn would need their help. Of course, there was always the nagging one percent doubt.

"What do you think of her, Seph?" he asked as they inspected the floor.

Sephiroth did not look up. "She seems nice enough. Better than a lot of them."

Zack reached the end of their search and straightened up, turning his attention to feeling across the wall for a spring, a lever, anything that would cause a possible panel to move. "I think she likes you too. She really got a kick out of you talking to her after dinner." He glanced at the other slightly as he came to join in the search for an exit. "I don't think she was expecting you to be as warm with her as you were. She thought you'd be cold and harsh."

Sephiroth reached up above his head, running his fingers over a slightly raised piece of woodwork. The wall slid open with just the slightest touch in that spot, revealing a darkened room. "Appearances can be deceiving," he answered, walking past Zack and shining the flashlight around to see where they had ended up.

The brunet quickly followed before the space could close again. "This looks like the den," he remarked, seeing the large, widescreen television set across from the soft green couch, and the state-of-the-art sound system. Dalton had created his own private theatre.

"It is." Sephiroth looked back, hearing the panel starting to close. "This is the other location I was wondering about earlier."

"So they're connected." Zack gave the room a cursory glance before crossing to the door. "If that's it, we'd probably better see if we can get into the attic before we go back to bed." He placed his hand on the knob and then suddenly blinked, thinking of something. "Hey, what time is it, anyway?"

Sephiroth pulled back his sleeve to check his watch. "It's after two in the morning," he reported. "I went to get you around twelve-thirty." He followed Zack to the door, then stopped and waited as the brunet eased it open and peered cautiously into the hall. Hopefully Dalton did not have any irritating latenight habits, such as getting up for a snack. That was all they needed right now.

"Coast is clear," Zack announced, and slipped into the corridor.

Sephiroth was right behind him, shutting the door noiselessly as he went.

But Zack's statement was almost immediately nullified. Loud footsteps were heard down the hall, descending the stairs. The duo froze, pressing themselves against the wall. The den was clear on the other side of the first floor, near where they had began, and its hallway would come out on the staircase's right. Should whoever was coming happen to look that way, they might very well see the SOLDIERs vainly trying to conceal themselves within the shadows.

Both of them tried to look themselves, and for a brief moment they could see Dalton's strong form walking toward the front door after reaching the bottom step. He was fully dressed, and seemed to have a definite destination in mind. Purposely he hauled open the heavy door, stepping out onto the porch and pulling the handle behind him. Then they were alone again, the shutting door bespeaking the solitude.

Slowly Zack pushed himself away from the wall. "Wonder where he's going so late," he murmured. "He didn't look tired." He moved into the dimly lit parlor, then to the window. Keeping to the side of it, he leaned over just enough to get a glimpse of what was outside. "Looks like he's going to the prison," he announced.

"Not a surprise. There aren't many other locations he could hope to frequent, especially at this time of night." Sephiroth stepped out as well, glancing to his comrade before alighting the bottom stair.

"Didn't hear a phone ring, either." Zack turned away from the glass, heading after the other.

"It could have been a mobile phone, if anyone called at all. Maybe it was a whim, or a routine check." Quickly yet quietly, the silver-haired man ascended to the second floor. "While he's out, we'd better use the opportunity to find and search his quarters, rather than the attic." Ordinarily it might sound like too much of a risk, but the maids would be residing in the servants' abode that he had seen from his room's window. The only other person in the house should be Maryn, and she would not be a problem, if they inadvertantly stumbled upon her room. At least, he hoped she would not be a problem.

Zack blinked, momentarily surprised. But then he smirked. "Always living on the edge, eh, Seph?" he said.

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed suddenly, Zack's words triggering other memories. "Go back down, replace that brick, and turn off the light in the library," he directed. "Meanwhile, I'll locate and investigate Dalton's room." They were just lucky that the library was on the side of the house that could not be seen from the penitentiary. But it was unwise to rely too much on luck. A maid could easily find things out of place, or Dalton himself might, upon his return. Presumeably, he had at least not seen the glow right now, or he would have came back inside.

Zack nodded, not needing to ask questions. Stealthily he went back down, turning to the staircase's left.

Sephiroth whirled around as well, beginning his journey down the long corridor.

He looked at the doors thoughtfully. During their tour, Dalton had mentioned that it was mostly bedrooms on this floor, in additions to the bathrooms and the one bare room that he was hoping to modify into a gallery. Perhaps that was where he was planning to relocate some of the items in the attic, though he had not mentioned one way or another when he had been asked. He had shown them that room, as well as a couple of the vacant bedrooms, but as Sephiroth thought more on the matter, it seemed odd that he had not also displayed his quarters. He was obviously so proud of his house and its interior, and would he not want to show off his room, as well---unless something was within that he did not want anyone to view?

Carefully he opened first one door, then another, finding unlived-in rooms both times. The third time, as a small shaft of light from the hall fell into the inner space, he found Maryn's innocent form sound asleep in a soft, white bed. This door he closed even more softly than those previous to it.

He had suspected that Dalton's room might be at the end of the hall, furthest away from the attic steps, and presently he found that this idea was correct. As he eased open the final door, he saw a large and unmade canopy bed, slippers on the floor, an open closet, and a desk cluttered with various items. He nodded in approval, leaving the door open as he advanced inside. Turning on this light would be too risky. He would rely on the hallway and his own flashlight.

First he crossed to the desk, making certain to stay low. It was under the window, and the last thing he wanted was to cast a silhouette on the curtain. But despite the mess, nothing seemed strange or out of place. There were various prison documents, totaling around fifteen, in a stack with a Post-It note on top that reminded him to take them next door. Apparently he had forgotten again. Many pens were scattered on the finished wood itself, while others were in an old glass. The laptop computer was on Standby, and when Sephiroth idly moved the mouse and was returned to the Login screen, he found that it was password protected. That was not a surprise. Quickly he reinstated the Standby mode.

"Seph?"

He started slightly at Zack's sudden voice, but did not look to him. "That took a long time," he grunted.

He heard the brunet walking across the floor, also keeping away from the window. "To tell the truth, Seph, I couldn't find the brick," he confessed.

Now he had the other's attention. Sephiroth frowned deeply, half-turning to study the younger man's puzzled expression. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Just that," Zack said helplessly. "It wasn't where you left it, on the mantle. Then I thought maybe it'd gotten thrown to the floor when the panel swung open, but it wasn't anywhere!" He paused. "And yeah, it wasn't back in the fireplace, either," he added.

This was not pleasing news. The only explanation was that someone had been in there and had deliberately removed it. But what would anyone want with a _brick?_ It did not make sense at all!

Sephiroth returned his attention to the desk, picking up the first folder and flipping it open. It seemed to be the record for one of the convicts. But it did not help at all in learning what the person had done. All that was typed was that he---or she---had committed a "four-twelve", and that their sentence was three years. In irritation the silver-haired man grabbed the next file and opened it as well. This prisoner had performed a "three-twenty-five", and had been rewarded with ten years.

"Wow," Zack remarked, looking over his compatriot's shoulder, "they really want to keep things private around here."

Sephiroth shook his head, leaning over to read the tabs of the remaining folders. They were all criminal records, and undoubtedly would all have the same codes. There was little point in attempting to go over the rest. He placed the first two on top of the stack and straightened up with a sigh.

The strange signals could be a way of retaining secrets, but on the other hand, they might only be a foolish attempt at making such a small place of incarceration seem big and important. It was hard to understand the thoughts that ran through some people's brains, but Dalton might be just the sort of person who would do something idiotic that way. Sephiroth had definitely got the impression that the warden believed himself to be a far greater man than he actually happened to be.

By now Zack had wandered over to the closet, and was pushing clothes aside to check at the back. "He's got a gun," he announced, and reached into the depths to extract a long rifle. "Looks like the hunting guns they use at Gongoga." He turned it around in his hands, and then clicked it open, looking into the barrels. "It's loaded, too."

Well, this was interesting. Sephiroth walked over to him, looking the weapon up and down. "Has it been fired recently?" he asked.

Zack shrugged. "All the chambers are filled," he reported, snapping it shut again and replacing it in the closet. "I dunno what there'd be to hunt around here, though." He turned, watching Sephiroth get on his knees to look under the bed. "Anything?" he asked.

Sephiroth sneezed. "Just a stray dust bunny," he muttered.

Zack shook his head, slightly amused. "The maids aren't doing their jobs right," he declared, backing up into the nightstand next to the bed. He glanced down at it, noticing a lone drawer. Taking hold of the knob, he pulled it out, only to discover that the sole contents were a shotglass and a bottle of brandy. "Looks like this is his midnight snack," he smirked, closing the compartment once more.

Sephiroth stood up, brushing a long lock of hair back over his shoulder. "There's nothing that will help us in here," he said. "Let's see if we can explore the attic before he comes back." Without waiting for an answer, he walked out of the room and back up the hall. In a moment, he heard the door shut behind him and Zack's footsteps catching up with his long strides.

* * *

As it turned out, there was nothing strange upstairs, either. Within the boxes that they were able to look through, they discovered other figurines, vases, small lamps, and even decorative plates. Two or three others contained paintings, and Sephiroth recalled his earlier theory that these things were meant for the soon-to-be gallery room. Eventually they abandoned the effort, opting to return to their rooms and get whatever sleep they possibly could. 

The missing brick problem nagged at Sephiroth as he collapsed onto the soft mattress several moments later. He had the feeling that it would become important, and that it was something he needed to find the answer to, but for the life of him he could not determine exactly why, or how it could be used against them. And who had taken it? Dalton could not have done so, unless he had come downstairs to get it and then taken it upstairs before descending again to leave the house. But if he had discovered it loose, why had he not investigated the tunnel? And where would he have hidden the object?

The questions swirled through his mind endlessly, blending and weaving with others, until he sank into a deep slumber peppered with dreams of he and Zack trying to fight an uprising in Dismal.

_The villagers were all clutching bricks, running forward and throwing them at the duo as they stood back-to-back, desperately trying to deflect the deadly ammunition with their swords. And then into the melee sprang giant numbers---"three-twenty-five", "four-twelve", and others. These fired hunting rifles similar to the one Zack had uncovered in Dalton's closet._

_Through it all, a young voice was desperately trying to be heard, calling again and again to both SOLDIERs. It grew louder and more distinct each time, and then, finally, Sephiroth could make out words._

_"It's not the weapons you really need to worry about!" cried Maryn. "It's what they're gonna do with them!"_

_The last thing he heard before he snapped awake was a rousing, hateful cry of "Murderer! Murderer!"_

Sephiroth gasped, jolting violently as his eyes opened. He was staring up at the underside of the bed's canopy, he realized instantly. The dream did not continue to perplex him by entwining its long talons around him, keeping him from fully becoming aware of reality. Instead, it simply perplexed him by its very nature, by its usage of the objects encountered during the night, and by its ambiguous, unsettling ending.

He ran a hand over his eyes in irritation. What nonsense. Had Zack's question about prophetic dreams remained in his subconscious and prompted into creation this bizarre specimen of Sephiroth's mind? Even if it had not, it seemed obvious that it must be merely the result of his own thought process. Though, that did not explain where he would have gotten the inspiration for the finale. He could place most everything, except that part. Why were the villagers shouting "Murderer"? Who had been killed, and who was being accused?

Idly he wondered if he should speak with Zack about whatever the brunet had dreamt that had bothered him. It could not hurt, at any rate, even though he did not believe that there was anything to either incubus.

"Mr. Sephiroth?"

He blinked in surprise, turning to look toward the door. Maryn was there, shy and uncertain, one hand on the knob as she shifted uncertainly and bit her lip. How long had she been there? He had not heard her knock, as he assumed she would have, nor had he heard the doorknob turn.

He raised up on an elbow, the quilt slipping down from his bare chest. "What is it?" he asked.

She relaxed slightly, seeing that he appeared to be receptive. "Breakfast is ready," she said, still speaking in a soft tone. "Mr. Dalton said to come get you and Zack."

"Breakfast?" He sat up, throwing the covers back the rest of the way. "Alright. Thank you," he said, maneuvering his legs over the edge of the bed. "I'll be right down."

She nodded, but still lingered, hesitation in her eyes.

At last he looked to her questioningly. What was it she wanted?

"Um . . . are you okay, Mr. Sephiroth?" She shifted again. "You look kinda upset . . . like you had a bad dream. . . ."

He sighed, running a hand through his bangs and causing them to stand up even more. "Fine. I'm fine." He stood up, starting to shuffle toward the adjoining bathroom.

Maryn nodded, but still looked unconvinced. "Okay," she said. "I'll go back down and tell them you're coming. I already woke up Zack." And with that, she turned and slipped into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Sephiroth only half-heard.


	4. Fulfillment One

**Chapter Four**

Breakfast was a mostly quiet affair. Both Sephiroth and Zack wondered if the brick would be mentioned, but if Dalton knew anything about it, he said nothing. Nor did he speak of his sudden flight from the house. However, he did say that if they wished, the prison was ready to be investigated as soon as they were done eating. And Sephiroth did, indeed, wish it.

From the look he and Zack exchanged as they stood, it seemed that they both wondered if Dalton's early morning visit to the prison had been in order to "ready" it for the guests. If anything had been moved there from the house, maybe it had been relocated again. Perhaps now, whatever weapons there might be had been given residence in the villagers' tents. Or for all the SOLDIERs would know, maybe now they had all been returned to the tunnel.

Several moments later, they were following Dalton out the door and next door to the penitentiary. Despite the overcast sky, it was still warmer than Zack was used to, and he fanned himself with a hand. The temptation to just remove his gloves was growing stronger.

"How do you stand it, Seph?" he demanded of the other. Noticing the quicksand bubbling around the old stone wall, he moved as far away from it as possible.

Sephiroth shrugged. The heat had never been a problem for him, nor the cold either, really---which was why he could feel comfortable leaving his coat open and not wearing a shirt.

He looked to Dalton as the other man took a remote control out of his pocket and aimed it at the front gate. A sensor beeped and a red beam ran across the device. Then something could be heard clicking, and the iron gates slowly opened with a loud creak. Once they had done so, the brick drawbridge behind them began to lower, until it came to a halt on the solid ground just beyond the murky mire.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. "I had heard that the drawbridge could only be activated from the security room inside the building," he commented.

Dalton replaced the small object in his pocket before moving forward onto the strong brick surface. "That was true," he admitted, "but it was often inconvenient. So I had my head guard invent another way for me to get in. I'm the only one who has one of these. It would be too risky for any of the guards to possess them, and I'm sure you can understand why, since they work so closely with the prisoners---many of whom are very violent."

Zack kept to the center of the platform as he walked over, and Sephiroth did likewise. "So does it only work from the outside?" the raven-haired man asked.

Dalton nodded. "Yes, and that side of the entrance," he said with a gesture, "but don't think that would stop prisoners from trying to get hold of it." He reached the other end and stepped into the courtyard.

Sephiroth stepped off next to him. "Aren't you concerned that they will try to ambush you to get your device?"

"Not really." Dalton smirked darkly. "Rakesh, my head guard, handles all such possible . . . disturbances." With that he strode toward the doors leading inside.

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Rakesh?" he repeated, and shook his head. "I dunno . . . I don't like the way he said that part about disturbances."

Sephiroth walked past him. "We'll find out soon enough," he grunted. The closer he got to the doorway, the more obvious and clear came the screams from inside. Apparently two or more convicts were brawling, and the rest were cheering for either one or the other, yelling "FIGHT! FIGHT!" with vigor. That was probably the most excitement they got in this place.

Zack followed his friend to the doorway, crossing his arms as he looked inside. It opened immediately into a room where some of the prisoners were gathered in a semi-circle, observing the furious fistfight with relish. The space was ordinary, and sparsely furnished, with only a table or two, but it was still enough to give Zack pause.

Sephiroth frowned, seeing the other SOLDIER tense out of the corner of his eye. "What is it?" he demanded, half-turning to study the brunet. He almost looked as though he had seen a ghost.

Zack swallowed hard, then grinned. "Nothing," he said, moving around Sephiroth to follow Dalton into the building. But the truth was, the room was instantly recognizable from his dream. And that scared him. He had never been in there previously, nor had he known anything of what it would look like. The other prisons he had seen were quite different. There would have been nothing from which his subconscious could have drawn.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, trailing after his friend.

Dalton was to the left, not seeming concerned by the fray. He smirked, looking to a man coming out of an inner room. As the silver-haired man turned his gaze in that direction, he immediately sensed something dark about the newcomer.

He was tall, around Sephiroth's own height and build, and sported straight, shoulder-length black hair. His face was long and pointed, his blue eyes were narrowed cruelly, and his thin lips were parted in a sadistic gesture. He was dressed in a dark blue uniform and matching gloves, and in his right hand he propped a long stick against the floor. Dalton did not even have to introduce him; Sephiroth was certain that this was Rakesh.

"You know what to do," Dalton smiled.

"Indeed." Rakesh went directly to the crowd, using his pole to force the spectators aside and allow him to pass. One of them yelped in pain, as if having been electrically shocked. This made Rakesh sneer all the more, and as he came to stand in the middle of the floor, he roughly and repeatedly jabbed his weapon down between the two men who were brawling.

Zack tensed, a shiver running up his spine as the agonized cries rent the air. In shock he looked to Sephiroth, then Dalton. "What is this?!" he cried in alarm. "He's hurting him!" How could this be allowed? How could the warden stand by and do nothing? Why had the guard not simply called for reinforcements and pulled the duo away from each other? This was an outrage!

Dalton clapped him on the shoulder, an act that first startled him and then made him all the more furious. "They're misbehaving, like children," he explained, as if Zack was a juvenile himself. "They need to be taught that it isn't permitted here." He nodded back to the scene. "Look, they aren't hurt, just subdued."

Zack did turn his attention back to the inmates. Both fighters were sprawled on the cement, groaning and unable to move. Rakesh stood over them, still aiming his spear-like weapon and being obviously pleased with his work. All of the other prisoners remained stock still, not wanting to bring the man's wrath upon them as well.

The brunet clenched his fists. "It's not right!" he cried indignantly. "This is supposed to be a correctional facility. It's supposed to guide these people on how to live better lives, to prepare them to be able to get back into the outside world! But this isn't going to help them at all! This is torture, plain and simple!"

Sephiroth silently laid a hand on Zack's shoulder, as if to quiet and steady him. He was angry too, and he could understand the other's indignation and his need for justice to be done, but this would not help. He could already see that both Dalton and Rakesh were looking at them with annoyance and even hostility. Slowly, the convicts were moving to gaze in that direction too. None of them appeared pleased, even though it was on their behalf that Zack was speaking.

For what seemed an eternity, no further words or sounds came from anyone. Even the injured men were quiet, as if the SOLDIER's speech had caused them to forget their pain. Sephiroth could almost reach out and touch the hatred lingering in the air. The message was clear---_Your words, and you, are not welcome here. Don't meddle in things that are not your affair!_

Abruptly Rakesh began to laugh, the chilling and grating sound echoing throughout the large room. "A Shinra dog, speaking against torture? Isn't that hypocrisy?" He stepped over the prone bodies and came to stand near Zack, pointing the tip of his electropole at the raven-haired man's throat. "How many people have you hurt in your lifetime, cur? I bet you did worse than give them a few jolts with something like this."

Sephiroth fixed him with an icy stare that warned him of the consequences, should he try to use that stick for more than pointing. Of course Zack was able to defend himself, but any attack against him or Sephiroth would be as good as declaring war on SOLDIER. And they would never let themselves be beaten in a war. He gripped the hilt of the Masamune.

Zack, though momentarily surprised by having the weapon jabbed at him, swiftly got over the shock. He snatched the pole part, shoving it away from him. "I don't have to answer to the likes of you," he replied in a low tone.

Rakesh blinked, actually seeming taken aback. But it instantaneously passed and he moved the stick back as he started to walk past the other. "You will, boy," he hissed, his smile becoming even more grotesque. "Everyone answers to me sooner or later, and if I have my way, you and the other Shinra dog will die before even twenty-four hours have passed." With that he strode in determination up the hall and through the door from which he had entered.

Zack drew a shaky breath as he stared after the guard. He knew he had reacted inappropriately to this situation. It was both one of his strengths and one of his weaknesses---his inability to hold his tongue at such gross injustice. But he could not understand why no one had done anything to stop such a madman. Why was he even allowed to work here? What was wrong with these people? Dalton and Rakesh spoke of Shinra and SOLDIER with such vehemence, and yet they themselves were the monsters that they believed their visitors were! It was not right. It was not right at all!

"Well," Dalton said abruptly, "let's continue the inspection, shall we?" He barely glanced over as two other guards hauled the "subdued" prisoners to their feet, then forced them to walk forward with the threat of other electropoles at their backs.

Sephiroth looked to him, his green eyes narrowed. "Is this the standard proceedure for handling 'disturbances'?" he asked, throwing the warden's own words back at him.

Dalton chuckled, unconcerned. "No, only when a serious offense is committed," he replied. "Of course, if they tried something as frowned upon as, say, a prison break, the penalty would most likely be . . . death." He said this with a casual smile and a shrug, as if it was a matter of no greater concern than the weather.

"You never did say what it is that they've done." Sephiroth half-turned, beginning to walk alongside the other as he headed in the same direction that all the prisoners and guards were going. "You only mentioned something vague about broken rules." Zack was on Sephiroth's other side, still silent as he gathered his emotions together.

"Ah yes." Dalton seemed unbothered by the subject being approached. "Well, I'm sure you can imagine. Thievery is the most common sin among the villagers, and then there are hopeless cases such as what you just witnessed. Assault and battery is treated very seriously around here."

_Yeah,_ thought Zack, _by assaulting them more!_ But he forced himself to stay quiet. Sephiroth should handle this angle, since he could do so without becoming visibly incensed. When he actually thought of it, he wondered if he had ever seen the other downright angry. He could not remember such a time. Sephiroth always seemed so perfectly in control of his feelings. If he ever did lose his temper, however, then Zack was certain that he would bring Hell upon the victim of his rage. Zack shuddered slightly at the thought.

"And for a village with so few survivors, you certainly have a fair number of prisoners."

The raven-haired man snapped back to the present. Had he missed an important part of the discussion? He was not certain, but he could see now that they had arrived at the corridor of cells. The spaces were small and cramped, but still tried to accomodate two inmates each---even though it was quite obvious that there should only be one person per cell. Zack frowned again. If Dalton did not insist on such a fancy house, with so many hidden passages, then this building could be renovated. It definitely needed such an overhaul.

"Oh . . . there were a few more than Shinra may have been led to believe." Dalton strode down the corridor calmly, his hands behind his back, watching as the guards herded the convicts into their respective chambers. He approached it all in a very blasé, nonchalant manner, and either did not notice or care about the mens' plight.

"They're crammed in like sardines!" Zack could not help but say.

The warden did not take offense, if either Zack or Sephiroth believed he would. "Well," he said calmly, "that's why they should be more careful and not break the rules. It only causes them inconveniences such as this."

Sephiroth grunted. "A prison sentence is more than an 'inconvenience.'"

Dalton seemed to find this amusing. "True, true," he said. "It is, at that."

* * *

Most all of the building had the same, rundown feeling that the entrance and the cellblock did. The long tables in the cafeteria were rusted, as were the benches, and the paint on the walls was peeling. The floor had been cleaned recently, but there were still remnants of old food spills engrained in the concrete. And more recent ones, too, Zack discovered, as he sidestepped what looked like a blob of catsup. At least, he _hoped_ it was catsup.

Dalton had tried to fix his office in a way that would make it seem more pleasant, and perhaps, almost reminiscent of his home. The desk was of fine oak, and the chair, genuine leather. An old ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, and there was a water cooler in one corner. A favorite painting decorated one wall, while just opposite of it and behind the desk was a window with a blind. But despite the warden's attempts, the room carried a certain broken air about it. Sephiroth wondered if Dalton really spent much time in there at all, or if he conducted most of his work from his home.

The security room was the only one in the entire penitentiary with which the SOLDIERs were impressed. There were modern screens all across the top half of one wall, each one monitoring a different section. Below them was a long console, filled with various levers and switches. Two men were seated in front of it, and while one was turning dials and speaking with another guard over a communications system, the other had propped his feet on top of the device, staring lazily up at one of the screens.

"This is where the main controls for the drawbridge are," explained Dalton as he stepped just inside the doorway. "As you can see, this room is located as far away from the cellblock as possible, and in addition to the men who are always in here, there are also those on guard out in the hall. None of the inmates could possibly get in here, not unless they overpowered guards and took their weapons away from them. And even then, it would not be easy. All of the security task force possesses weapons as well."

"If you believe something is absolutely impossible, that's when it will happen all the more," Sephiroth pointed out in a flat tone.

Dalton crossed to one of the men, mentioning something in low tones about having the drawbridge lowered again. Then he turned, intending to leave the room. "So now we're waxing philosophical, are we?" he mused.

"It's a fact of life. You don't have to only be prepared for anything to happen. You have to expect anything and everything to happen." Sephiroth gave the console one last glance, as if memorizing the order of every switch and dial, before moving to follow. As usual, he did not wait to see if Zack was coming as well. Zack would be there.

"Quite pessimistic, aren't you," Dalton commented as he led them back to the front entrance.

If Zack had been in a better mood, he would have grinned and joked that he had always told "Seph" the same thing, and that he really did need to try to see life in a more positive light. But right now he did not want to say anything that sounded as if he was agreeing with their host, even if only in jest.

"I'm realistic," Sephiroth said then.

Dalton smirked. "Well, we can always use more realists." But the voice he used had a distinct mocking undercurrent.

Then, with his next words, it was gone again. "And now you have seen the prison," he proclaimed. "What do you think?"

Zack finally spoke. "I think it needs some serious improvements," he replied, and then rushed on before he could be stopped. "But that's not why we came." He crossed his arms, looking to Sephiroth and then back to the broad man in front of them. "We came to check into the rumors that there was an uprising here."

Sephiroth nodded. "If there is, you've done a good job of concealing it . . . though I see it would be impossible to hide your and others' contempt of Shinra." There had actually not seemed to be any logical place where weapons could be hidden in this locale, either---but that did not mean that Sephiroth believed that their mission was complete. Far from it. This was all a game to the warden. That was quite apparent. He knew that Sephiroth was aware of this, too. And Sephiroth would not cry defeat until they had won.

He said all of this in a message with his eyes. And Dalton received it just as plainly as if he had spoken aloud. He looked back for a long moment, not willing to be outdone by Shinra in even so much as a staring contest. And his firm gaze said without a doubt that he was ready and willing to combat SOLDIER in any way that he could. It also warned Sephiroth that his pride would be not only his downfall, but that of Zack's, as well. And the silver-haired man became certain that Dalton knew of the latenight exploits through his house.

As quickly as it had come, the mood was gone again, and Dalton walked to the open doorway. "What are your plans for the rest of the day, sir?" he asked amiably. "May I escort you and Mr. Fair somewhere?"

"No thank you." Sephiroth went past him and down the steps to the grounds. "I'm sure you're a busy man. Zack and I planned to scout around the immediate area today. Now would be a good time for it, while it's still morning." They had not actually discussed such plans in detail, but when they had been searching the attic, Zack had mentioned that perhaps they should go up on the golden plate---or as he called it, the "Gold Saucer." Maybe, he hoped, they would learn something useful there about Dalton. Sephiroth had thought it sounded like a logical plan. But of course Dalton could not know about it.

"True," the brown-haired man nodded now. "But since we had breakfast somewhat late, by now the noon hour is fast approaching." He watched as Zack hurried into the courtyard as well. "If you two want to explore alone, then I won't try to stop you. After all, I realize that some of your company business must be conducted in secret, without someone like me being in on it." He remained in the doorway, his arms crossed. "But I should warn you to hurry. The sky only grows more clouded, and there is a storm that's forecast."

Zack blinked. "Rainstorms must be pretty rare out here," he said.

"They are," Dalton admitted, "but not sandstorms. The wind starts up something vicious, and then sand swirls around stronger than many a blizzard. It's not something pleasant to get caught in."

By now Sephiroth was walking across the drawbridge. "We'll be careful," he said. Once he was on the other side, he stopped and waited for Zack.

"Feel free to use my car," Dalton called after them, and then re-entered the building as Zack also got off the drawbridge.

Zack shook his head, walking beside Sephiroth as the other headed with determination towards the driveway next door where the dark automobile was parked. "Are we going to go up on that Gold Saucer?" He had to admit, he was a bit curious about the thing, in addition to hoping that it could provide some answers. It was not the first such plate of its kind that had been built, but the SOLDIER had never before had the chance to see what one was like. It fascinated him, that it could be sturdy enough to hold all that it did and be perfectly stable.

Sephiroth nodded. "I'd rather not take the car, but I don't think he was lying about the possibility of a sandstorm. It would be foolish to attempt walking." He reached into his pocket, withdrawing and unfolding his cellphone. "First, though, we need to report back to headquarters."

Zack observed him, an increasing feeling of unease coming over him as Sephiroth frowned and glared suspiciously at the phone. "What is it?" the brunet asked.

In response, Sephiroth held out the device so that Zack could see the large writing proclaiming "NO SERVICE" that was flashing across the small screen.

"I thought you took that out last night and it was working fine then," Zack exclaimed.

"It was." Sephiroth closed it again, slipping it into his pocket. "And I don't trust the telephones in the house. They're probably tapped." Perhaps it was the oncoming storm that had caused his phone to temporarily give up the ghost. That would make sense, and that was probably what he would be told if asked, but somehow he did not believe it. More likely, communication with the outside world was simply being blocked. When they got to the plate, he would have to try again.

Zack was silent a moment. "What do you think of the prison, Seph?" he asked.

"The same as you, mostly," Sephiroth answered. "In a location such as this, the guard's actions don't really surprise me, though I'm still disgusted. And it's obvious that something needs to be done with the entire building, but Dalton's more interested in his home to care." As they arrived at Dalton's yard, he did not say more.

The chauffeur looked up as the duo approached. "Hello, sirs," he greeted in a hesitant tone. He was in the process of washing the car, and seemed to be almost done. With one hand, he ran a cloth over the glistening paint, while the other held a garden hose that was currently watering the driveway. "Can I help you?"

"We want to borrow the car for a few hours," Zack announced.

The man's eyes widened. "Oh . . . I couldn't allow that," he gasped.

"Your employer told us that we could make use of it," Sephiroth spoke, walking over to him, "but it would be more convenient if we could drive it ourselves."

"Look around you," Zack said with a gesture. "There's nowhere we could really go. We'd walk, only it sounds like we might get caught in a sandstorm."

"And have you ever driven in a sandstorm?" the chauffeur returned.

"We can manage," Sephiroth said.

"We'd have it back before night," Zack added.

The chauffeur was silent, seeming to be weighing all of the possibilities. But at last he nodded. Sephiroth had the feeling, however, that it was not because of them that he consented. Perhaps Dalton had said something to him the previous night. Or maybe even, Dalton was speaking to him now, through some kind of miniature transmitter in his ear. At any rate, as he slowly handed over the keys, he still looked reluctant. Maybe he was afraid they would ruin the vehicle. Or maybe it was something else. But it was too late to change his mind now.

He watched as the warriors climbed into the automobile. The silver-haired one had decided to drive, and within a moment, he had turned the key and revved the engine. Then they were disappearing into the distance, heading for the tents in the north.

* * *

As before, once they arrived in North Dismal, many unfriendly eyes peered out at them from the tent flaps. It was obvious that no answers would be gained by trying to speak to them, so Sephiroth did not even bother to attempt it. Instead, he parked the car as close to the cable car lift as he possibly could and then alighted the vehicle. Zack did the same, and soon they were on board the car, en route to the golden plate.

Zack watched out the window as they rose higher into the air. It seemed fascinating in a way, that such a system as this would really be able to work properly and that the cables would not break. But he could not focus on that for long. His mind continued to insist upon returning to the layout of the prison. It was too eerie, that it would be exactly as he had seen it in his dream. And after what he had witnessed, he could easily imagine the rest of the nightmare coming true as well---the blood, the bodies on the floor, and . . .

"Hey, Seph?"

Sephiroth glanced over, a questioning look in his eyes. "What is it?" he queried.

Zack ran a hand through his hair. "Remember when I wanted to know if you'd had any prophetic dreams?"

The green-eyed man nodded slowly, crossing his arms. He recalled quite well, and had been wondering if Zack would approach the subject again. In spite of his own odd dream, he supposed that he had been hoping that he would not have to be the one to mention it first. Now, he felt a certain relief that he would not have to and that Zack was apparently going to speak on his own experience.

"Well . . . something weird did happen to me last night, but I wanted to just brush it off." He looked into those sea green eyes seriously, for once all traces of mirth dispersed. "But now . . . I'm afraid I can't do that." Sephiroth was silent, raising an eyebrow as if to tell him to proceed.

And so Zack did, explaining of the layout in the prison room, how he had never seen it or anything like it before, and how it exactly matched that in his dream. Sephiroth listened, not giving any indication as to what he thought of it, though he did nod slowly and thoughtfully at one point. At last he spoke again.

"What did you see in this dream?" He knew it could not have been simply an empty room. Zack was much too troubled.

The brunet sighed, averting his gaze to look beyond Sephiroth at the desert canyons in the distance. "There was blood all over the walls and floor," he said slowly, "and bodies. . . . Some of the people were just hurt, but I think most of them were dead, killed in some battle. Then . . ." He shook his head helplessly. "It just went black. I couldn't see anything more, but I could hear. . . .

"The dream me was running into this place, I guess. I knew that he---me---I knew that I was injured too." He locked eyes with his friend. "I found you in there, Seph. . . . It sounded like . . . well, I couldn't seem to wake you up. I think in the dream, you were dead." Subconsciously he clenched a fist again. It could not happen. He could not let it! And yet, how could he stop death itself?

Sephiroth looked away, studying the view outside. It was a short ride, and now they were about to halt. He would not have time to speak of his own, strange dream, since there was not likely to be any privacy to speak of on the plate.

"What do you make of it, Seph?" Zack's voice was quiet, unsettled.

The older man shook his head. "I don't know," he said honestly. What _could_ one think of a dream in which he appeared to not be among the living any longer? "I'm not dead yet." He glanced back over his shoulder at Zack. "All I can promise is that I'll be careful." And at least, if Zack's incubus was some kind of a warning, it could be kept in mind. But maybe, if it meant anything in the first place, it was trying to prepare Zack for something that definitely would happen and there would not be any way to prevent it. Of course, with his pessimistic nature, Sephiroth would have to examine such a possibility.

The car jumped slightly, then came to a complete stop. Immediately Sephiroth was up, heading out the doors with Zack right on his heels.

"There were people screaming 'Murderer' in my dream," he mused, just loud enough that the other could hear.

Zack blinked in surprise. Sephiroth had had a strange dream too? He chased after the silver-haired man as he stepped onto the saucer.

"When was this?" he demanded, grabbing his comrade's black-covered arm.

"This morning." Then Sephiroth did not say more, instead focusing his attention on the strange scene as he pondered what for them to do with it.

On one side was the amusement park, with all its irritating music and the shrieks and screams from people taking part in those rides that they oddly found so enjoyable. And even over all that noise, he could still hear people calling out from the midway, wanting the tourists to come to this booth or that and test their skills at various childish games that were probably fixed in the first place. He definitely hoped that they would not have to stop there.

On the other side, almost directly across, was a hotel. It stood several stories high, and from the top floors, it would probably be easy to see at least half of the park. It would also surely be possible to hear almost all of the racket. Sephiroth did not know how anyone could stand to board in such a place.

Past the hotel and up the street a ways, the casinos finally became visible. There were two on that side of the street, and on the other, next to the amusement park, was a third. Sephiroth decided they might as well try the first one they came to. And it would no doubt be wise to hurry. The sky had darkened even further in the last few minutes, and the wind was beginning to pick up.

"I wonder how long sandstorms here last," Zack mused as he quickly followed the other into the gambling establishment. It was possible that they would have to remain here for a while, should the weather abruptly change before they were ready to leave. But that could prove very inconvenient. Maybe the rebels below would take the opportunity to make final battle preparations, in the shelter of Dalton's home.

Sephiroth did not answer. Instead he took out his phone again, frowning as the screen still insistently informed him that there was no service here. Slipping it back into his pocket once more, he turned his attention to the scene around them.

It was vastly different from outside. The first thing he noticed was that the sounds from the amusement park were drowned out when the doors closed, as apparently the walls here were soundproof. Surely, the hotel must be that way as well, he decided. Otherwise, no one would be able to endure it.

It was a well-lit building, with soft, dark green carpet on the floor. (Probably, Sephiroth thought sarcastically, to remind people of money.) It seemed active, with several people at each of the various games. Across the room, someone whooped as they won at the slot machine, and someone cursed loudly as they lost at the craps table.

A flirtatious woman walked past the newcomers, winking at them seductively. Her hair was slightly curled and as jet black as Zack's. The tresses spilled over her bare shoulders and down her back to the beginning of her long, powder blue dress. A slight leer graced her red lips, as if she was certain that she would impress them and that they would follow her. Instead, Sephiroth regarded her boredly, while Zack smirked after her a bit. She was nice to look at, but not his type.

"Ah, gentlemen! Can I help you?"

Zack blinked, starting slightly at the friendly voice. Slowly he turned, finding himself face-to-face with an older, balding man. He was thin and short, with a pointed noise and eyes that seemed genuinely welcoming. He was wearing a rumpled, white dress shirt, open at the top and accompanied by a loosened tie. His black pants were likewise wrinkled, and from his pocket he absently withdrew a deck of cards as he spoke again.

"My name is Carter. I'm the owner of this casino." He looked amused by Zack's surprise. "And yes, boy, I know you're a SOLDIER," he said, and nodded to Sephiroth as well. "But up here, there's not much hatred of Shinra."

"And why is that?" Sephiroth asked warily.

The middle-aged man chuckled. "Why, because if it hadn't been for Shinra, this saucer wouldn't have been built, and I wouldn't be making all this money!" He replaced the deck in his pocket and walked forward, gesturing for them to follow. "Most of us up here all feel the same. Shinra did us a favor!"

"Well . . ." Zack grinned weakly, getting over the initial shock. "It's good to know not everybody's out for our blood." It was especially refreshing after the encounter with Rakesh, and his ominous, parting words.

Carter chuckled, opening the door to his office. "Come in, come in!" He strode to his desk, plopping into the chair behind it and watching as Sephiroth and Zack slowly followed. "Sit down!" He gestured to the chairs at the back of the room.

Sephiroth complied, still feeling somewhat cautious. After all, this could so easily be another act, even though Carter seemed sincere enough. He picked a chair and pulled it out to be directly in front of the desk. Zack did likewise, and then reached over to shut the door before sitting.

The older man leaned forward on the desk, lacing his fingers. "Now, what is it you came here for?" he asked pleasantly. "Of course, we'd heard that Shinra was sending a couple of SOLDIERs to investigate the village below, and I wondered if you would find your way up here."

Zack glanced at Sephiroth, as if searching for the signal that it was alright for him to proceed. Then he looked back to their host. "Actually," he began, "we were hoping to find out something about the mayor, Dalton. He said that his whole house was built thanks to money he won at the casinos."

"Really?" Carter smirked. "Well, if that's true, it would certainly be a compliment, and a testament to what can be accomplished here."

"'If it's true'?" Sephiroth repeated in a pointed tone.

Carter shrugged. "Well, it certainly could be," he said. "He comes up here to gamble a lot, and usually he's at this establishment as opposed to my competitors'." He paused thoughtfully. "Though, where would he get the money to be able to gamble? It _is_ a mystery."

"Has he ever tried to collect people here to follow him in a possible uprising against Shinra?" Sephiroth wanted to know.

"Here?" Carter chuckled. "I think he would know it would be pointless. We're not fighters."

Sephiroth was not deterred. "Money can be a powerful motivator. He may have tried bribing the people here who are losing their fortunes instead of gaining them."

The owner nodded slowly. "True, very true," he agreed. "I suppose it's possible that he approached some people with the promise of being paid well if they complied. But if so, he hasn't come to me. Maybe he recognizes that I wouldn't be any use in a battle!" He smirked a bit, as if finding this jest quite amusing.

Zack watched him. "So . . . you haven't heard anyone say anything, like Dalton offered them money and they took it?" he inquired hesitantly. Despite his professed affection for Shinra, Carter might not want to betray people he worked with, or who were frequent patrons of the casinos. But the brunet still felt that it needed to be asked.

Carter paused, frowning slightly in concentration. "Well . . . I do remember hearing something strange about what was going on in the village," he answered at last, turning his gaze back to his visitors. "Someone said that some unmarked crates had been delivered to Dismal on the train last week, and he wondered if they might contain illegal weapons. But I didn't pay much attention to that, since I was busy with things here and all. But if it is true, it sounds like it could be evidence that they're planning something. I don't know where they'd be storing so many crates, though."

A knock abruptly sounded on the door, and all looked over at it. "Come in," Carter called.

It opened slightly, and a young man with shaggy blond hair peered in. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I'd heard there were guests and I thought they needed to know. . . ." He glanced to the SOLDIERs, opening the door further as he walked inside.

"Is it about the weather?" Carter said easily, at the same moment that the wind could be heard howling past his office.

"Yep." The employee looked to Sephiroth and Zack again. "They're going to be shutting down the cable car within the next twenty minutes. The wind's really starting to blow something fierce out there, and of course it can't be running under those conditions. So . . ." He shifted. "Unless you guys want to stay up here a while, you probably should leave now."

Sephiroth was already standing. They could not afford to become stranded. "How long do these storms usually last?" he asked.

"Oh . . . it's hardly ever the same, really," said the boy. "Sometimes they're only a few minutes. But they can last for hours. And this one's been forecast for a while now as being pretty serious."

Sephiroth nodded slowly. "Are communications down because of it?" he asked.

The boy blinked. "Well, probably. I don't know. I haven't tried to use the phone. Why?"

"Mine doesn't work," Sephiroth said flatly.

"I guess so, then," shrugged the blond.

Zack leaped up now as well. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Carter," he said, holding out his hand. "I guess we'd better run."

Carter shook it firmly, and Sephiroth's as well. "Just let me know if there's anything else you want to know," he told them. "And yes, you'd better hurry! They may shut down the cable car even sooner, if things get steadily worse."

Sephiroth quite agreed. He nodded to Carter and swept past his young employee, walking with determination towards the front doors. Zack rushed to catch up, and as they arrived outside, a burst of wind nearly swept him off his feet. He gasped in shock, crashing forward into Sephiroth.

"Oh wow," he exclaimed, his hair blowing wildly and viciously into his eyes and whipping against his face. Papers and bags were blowing everywhere, and the sky was completely dark, almost as if it was night. He could barely see Sephiroth as the other began to run to where the cable car lift was located. Struggling to shield his eyes, the raven-haired man again chased after him. They would be lucky to be able to get down during this.

* * *

By some miracle, the transport was still operational---but as it was, they barely made it there in time. The person manning the lift was reluctant to let them on at all, but Sephiroth convinced him that it would be alright and that they needed to get back down immediately. Overall, the ride was bumpy, dizzying, and downright nauseating, as the cable car was harshly attacked by the wind from all sides. But somehow, it reached the ground safely, and the two SOLDIERs stumbled out.

Immediately Sephiroth ran to the car, still shielding his eyes. The sand had already begun to swirl, and he growled low as he unlocked the vehicle and threw himself inside. If this kept up, it was going to be very difficult to drive.

As soon as Zack was also inside, Sephiroth revved the engine and sped over the desert, switching on the headlights. Zack leaned over, flipping the switch for the windshield wipers as well, and then squinted through the glass. As they got farther away from the tents, he was almost certain that he could see something laying on the sands, something that had definitely not been there earlier. Something . . . no . . . not something. . . .

"Seph! Stop!" he yelped.

The silver-haired man slammed on the brakes, hearing the alarm in Zack's voice. "What is it?" he demanded, but the other was already undoing his seatbelt and flying out of the automobile. Then Sephiroth saw what Zack had seen. Narrowing his eyes, he started to get out of the car as well.

He started to walk forward, still attempting to avoid getting the flying obstacles in his eyes. "Zack?" he called. The other was kneeling down next to what was clearly a very bloodied body, and as Sephiroth drew closer, his expression changed to shock as he saw what looked like the missing brick clutched in the form's hand. What on Gaia was it doing there? How had this person gotten hold of it?

A flash of his dream returned. _Villagers with bricks. . . ._

Now Zack was leaning forward, gripping the man's shoulder. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Are you okay?" The other person was laying on his side, and when he made no response, the brunet carefully turned the form into a supine position. Then he gasped in horror at what became revealed. Slowly he reached over, pulling a knife out of the chest. "He's . . . he's been murdered," he exclaimed. Who would have done it? One of the other villagers? Had a prisoner escaped? It did not make sense!

He looked up sharply, but could see nothing through the swirling sands. Wait . . . there were lights approaching, lights from every direction, and faint yelling could be heard. . . . A chill went up Zack's spine.

An overwhelming feeling of urgency suddenly swept over his companion. "Put down that knife!" Sephiroth ordered.

But it would not have made any difference. Now it was clear that the lights were torches, coming towards them from all sides, and the vague voices carried on the wind became louder.

"Come and see!" screamed what sounded like Dalton. "Come and see what the Shinra dogs have done!"

A resounding, furious, hateful reply came from the villagers. "Murderer! Murderer!"

And Sephiroth's dream rushed back to him in full force.


	5. The Prison

**Chapter Five**

The people surrounding Sephiroth and Zack almost looked inhuman, their expressions twisted in abhorrance and their torches held high, casting shadows on their already monstrous faces. They continued to scream their accusations as they drew nearer, and Dalton marched in determination and indignation at their head.

Sephiroth felt an extreme wave of disgust at the display, and from the way Zack had straightened up and tensed, he was of the same mind. It was not surprising, that they would be the first to be accused. But Dalton had said to them only earlier that day that assault and battery, and theft, were common crimes in Dismal. Why should they be blamed for what was obviously more in-fighting?

"See here!" Dalton yelled as he came to stand in front of them. "This is what happens when the wolf is let in at the gate!" He grabbed Zack's gloved hand without warning, wrenching it into the air even as he struggling to pull free. "The blood is all over him! You will find that he was the one who held the knife! He was the one who stabbed it into this poor soul's form!"

_"MURDERER!"_ screamed the villagers.

_"NO!"_ Zack yelled at the same time, jerking away from Dalton's fierce grip. His eyes flashed, outraged at being accused of something so horrible. _It was not true!_ "Seph and I were driving back from the saucer, and we saw this guy laying in the road! So we pulled over and got out to see if we could help him!" He swallowed hard. "Someone's a murderer, alright," he said, his voice lowering. "But it isn't either of us."

"We would never stoop so low," Sephiroth added coldly.

In response Dalton lashed out, slapping Zack across the cheek with force. "Brute! Look, the villager was even trying to defend himself with that brick, but it was no use." He looked to the people. "This crime must be avenged! This man must be killed to satisfy the departed!"

Zack stumbled back against Sephiroth, raising a hand slowly to his reddening flesh. At these words, a chill ran up his spine. This was a terrible predicament to be in! And with communications down, there was no way to call Shinra for help. He had not thought, had never imagined, that it would come to this, even though he had known from the start that there would be many dangers involved.

Sephiroth reached out, gently steadying the other. There was something off about Dalton's speech. He had always seemed falsely friendly, and now . . . now he seemed falsely enraged. He knew Zack had not done this crime! That had to be it. Dalton knew, and yet he was willing to frame an innocent man because of his hatred for Shinra. Maybe he had found the body and had seen an opportunity to breed more loathing for SOLDIER among the townspeople. Or maybe it was even someone who had been killed during a prison fight and they had dumped the corpse here, dressed in civilian clothes. In any case, Sephiroth was becoming certain that this was a setup. And he could not let this happen. He could not allow them to take Zack. Of course, Zack would not allow it either.

A hand fell back to the Masamune's hilt. "Shinra will not permit this man to die," he growled.

Immediately a sword was drawn by one of the townspeople, holding it lengthwise in front of Zack's neck. "Make one move to draw your weapon, dog, and this killer's throat will be slit on the spot!" he cried in a gnarled, rasping tone.

Before Sephiroth or Zack could retort, everyone present had drawn blades, and were pointing every one of them at the hapless SOLDIERs. Dalton, too, held a weapon---a gun. He sneered, the vindictive pleasure glittering on his face.

"Oh, Shinra had better not permit it," he chuckled, "and you shouldn't, either, sir." He brought the barrel of his revolver to Zack's forehead, as the brunet stood indignant and insulted. "Do you want to save him?" he continued, addressing Sephiroth even as he stared Zack in the eyes. "Then give yourself up as a hostage we can use to barter with Shinra. If not, we will use Mr. Fair to that end. And if Shinra refuses to meet our demands . . . well, then he dies tomorrow at sunrise."

Zack froze. No . . . Seph could not give into such orders. He would not. Surely he would know that it would not make any difference. They would both be taken hostage, if he did. And there was no guarantee that they would not both be prisoners even if he did not. And Shinra was not likely to give in to whatever outrageous desires these people would have. Most likely, they would deny it and try to send reinforcements to arrive before the execution.

Sephiroth was inwardly seething. What he wanted most right now was to abruptly draw the Masamune and cut down all of the opposition. But of course that would not be wise, or even practical. He and Zack would probably end up dead if he did something rash. This seemed to be a carefully thought-out scheme, though he was still unsure of whether everyone here was in on it or if it was only Dalton. But it did not matter much. Whether they believed Zack to be guilty or not, they all very clearly despised both he and Zack, simply because they happened to belong to SOLDIER.

Sephiroth's silence and hesitation only made Zack all the more uneasy. "Don't do it, Seph!" he cried, and earned the blade pressed right against his flesh.

"Not another word out of you, scum!" hissed its owner.

Zack glowered, but kept quiet. He did not think that they would kill him yet, but it was hard to say for certain. Maybe they would decide that Sephiroth was the one they really wanted, and they would make him witness Zack's death to torment him.

"I'm not going to be ordered around by terrorists." Sephiroth spoke firmly, coldly, his green eyes narrowed. "I won't do what you want of me." He knew it would not help Zack if he was taken captive---though he also knew that they still might try. But he would fight to the death if they did. If he had until sunrise, he could surely come up with something to save the other. And Zack would not merely sit around, twiddling his thumbs. They would work together, even if they would be apart, and get out of this mess.

"How are you going to contact Shinra?" Zack spoke again, despite the sharp metal being too close for comfort. "The storm's knocked out all communications!"

Dalton chuckled in a dark way. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Fair," he answered, confirming another of Zack's fears. "_Dismal_ is blocking all communications. But it can easily be lifted to send a very important message to President Shinra." He continued to stay where he was, the gun held firmly to the SOLDIER's head. "By the authority I hold, you are now under arrest."

Zack swallowed hard, tensing as his hands were snatched and drawn behind his back. He did not want to do this, but in his current position, he could not try to fight the person who was tying his wrists together. He knew that he was innocent of the heinous crime of which he was accused. And he knew what Sephiroth had figured out---that Dalton knew it, too. Maybe the warden even knew who the real murderer happened to be.

He looked over at Sephiroth, who shook his head just slightly. They both wanted the same thing, but right now it was too much of a risk. They should not attempt at all to make an escape at this point. That would not solve the long-term problem even if they did succeed, and it was doubtful that they even would get far in the sandstorm. It had been whirling around them all this time, threatening to gain velocity and speed with every passing minute. No, it could not be done. As much as they both despised the only other option, Zack would have to do what they wanted . . . for now.

He looked back at Dalton steadily. "Go ahead and take me into custody then," he replied. "But I know you know that I didn't kill this guy. If you've gotta stoop to this level to get your revenge on Shinra, then you're acting like the kind of monster you think Seph and I are."

Dalton's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed to furious slits. "You dare to speak that way to me?" he screamed shrilly. "I have the power to grant both you and your comrade life or death!" He motioned for the villager to move his sword away from Zack's throat. Then he raised his hand high, intending to bring either the handle or the side of his gun down harshly onto the other's head.

With lightning speed, Sephiroth reached up and snatched Dalton's wrist, as Zack ducked out of the way at the same time. The silver-haired man regarded the warden with a look that would have burned most men. "Don't harm him," he ordered, gripping the wrist in a painful way. Shinra would not take kindly to Dalton torturing one of their best SOLDIERs. And Sephiroth would not take kindly to Dalton torturing his best friend. It was unnecessary and cruel---well, even more cruel than this disaster already had become.

And he hated what he had to do right now. He hated that he had to let Zack go with them. They would not kill him yet, not when he still was of some use to them, but that did not make the task easier. As a SOLDIER, he had to think of the greater good, of what would be best for all concerned. He could not do anything foolish that could result in the people of Dismal being able to launch their assault on Shinra and Midgar---but in the end, would this really be best for Zack? Would he be able to live with himself if Zack did end up being killed? There was no going back now.

Slowly Dalton began to smirk. "Very well," he said with a chuckle. "Very well, sir. But this is only one small victory for you. We will still win the war, and by arresting this killer, it has already begun. Hmm . . . maybe it isn't a victory at all for you," he amended. Then he turned around, watching approvingly as two of the strongest men were already taking hold of Zack's bound arms. Another held a sword to his back, making sure that he felt the prick of it against his shirt.

Feeling concerned eyes upon him, Zack struggled to glance over his shoulder. "Hey, Seph, don't worry about me," he said with a weak grin. "I've been in tight spots before."

Sephiroth grunted. "I'm not worried," he answered, as they forced the brunet to walk forward.

The green-eyed man clutched his arms tightly. To stand there, watching, just letting them take Zack away, was the most difficult thing he had ever had to do.

* * *

It was several long minutes later when he parked the car back at Dalton's home. Slowly he opened the door and got out, struggling to shield his eyes again from the increasingly furious sand. As quickly as he could, he ran onto the porch and pushed open the unlocked front door, practically slamming it behind him.

To get inside was definitely a relief, considering both the storm and the feeling that he had been shadowed all the way back. He had not heard Dalton give orders for anyone to do so, but maybe a villager had done it secretly, on his own, either because of wanting to see what the SOLDIER would do or else just wanting to try to make him nervous. It certainly made him irritated.

Ordinarily, he did not think that it would have been possible for someone to follow him in a wide open area. With the storm, and the decreased visibility, however, he imagined that would make quite a difference. The car's lights would probably be able to be seen, even with the angry weather, but a random person on foot would able to be concealed by the flying sand as well as by the night.

He curled his hand around his mouth, coughing from a bit of sand that had found its way inside. Now he would have to wait to find out what was going to happen to Zack. Judging from how things tended to go, that might take hours. And despite his patience, that seemed the worst torture of all for him. Was that what Dalton had wanted?

He had watched Zack being dragged through the gate next door, and it had made him all the more angry. If he had only been able to get a message through to Shinra earlier, to tell them that they needed to have a unit near to Dismal, ready to come at a moment's notice . . . ! As it was, maybe the reinforcements would not arrive in time to stop the execution. The sky was not a good judge of the time of day. And what if the storm kept communications down, even though Dalton believed a message would be able to be sent? Would that buy them more time, or would it only cause Zack to be killed for certain, and earlier than planned?

He pushed back the sleeve of his coat, checking his watch. It was almost six o'clock. How had that much time passed? It did not seem as though that much day could have actually come and gone.

The sound of feet running down the stairs made him look up sharply. Maryn was rushing over, but she stopped still in confusion when she only saw Sephiroth.

"You got caught in the storm!" she exclaimed, taking in his windblown, disheveled hair, his rumpled clothes, and the sand adorning all of that as well as any bare flesh it had been able to attack.

Sephiroth nodded wearily, not caring as he ran a hand through his hair and heard the grains of sand fall out onto the tiled floor. Someone else could clean it up. The first thing he was going to do now was to take a shower and use Dalton's laundry room. And if Dalton did not like it, that was too bad.

Maryn bit her lip. "Where's Zack?" she asked softly. Somehow she knew that she did not want to hear the answer, and yet it was not something she could bear to not be told.

Sephiroth looked down at her, seeing this in her expression. He would treat her as an adult, letting her know exactly what had happened. She deserved the truth. She was strong enough to take it.

"He's been arrested," he said solemnly, "on false charges."

Maryn gasped in alarm, tears immediately brimming her eyes. It was as she had feared. "They're gonna kill him!" she sobbed. "They're gonna. . . . They hate Shinra and SOLDIERs so much, and it's not fair! You and Zack didn't do anything to them!"

Sephiroth pulled off his gloves, stuffing them into a pocket. Then he laid a hand on her head as he walked by. "It isn't fair," he agreed, and explained. "They want to use him to get what they want, and if they can't, then yes, they want to kill him." He narrowed his eyes as he started to climb the steps. "But it won't be allowed."

She looked up shakily. "You'll stop them, won't you, Mr. Sephiroth?"

He gripped the banister, his knuckles going white. "Of course I will," he retorted then, making his way up the flight of steps. Yes, he would stop them. He had to stop them. Zack would not have to be sacrificed in order to bring down these madmen. That was unacceptable.

"Zack won't let them do it, either," he added as he reached the top. He could just imagine them struggling to get Zack to the gallows---as he remembered being told during the tour that in Dismal, criminals were executed by hanging. Zack would be fighting furiously every step of the way. He had to smirk slightly as he imagined how that would frustrate the guards.

"I won't let them, either!" Maryn's voice was quiet, probably not meant to be heard, but it was filled with determination.

Sephiroth turned back to face her, his expression completely serious and stern. "_Don't_ do anything foolish," he scolded. The last thing he needed was for the child to get herself into some drastic predicament as well. He did not have time to go chasing after her.

Maryn pouted, averting her gaze to the floor. She did not really know what she could do, but that did not mean that she did not want to do _something_. Zack had been so kind to her, and friendly. She did not want anything terrible to happen to him! But despite her young age, she had seen and heard many things concerning Dalton's and the townspeople's feelings toward Shinra and SOLDIER, and once she had known that Shinra was sending a couple of their warriors to investigate things, she had been afraid that something wretched would happen.

"I . . . I just want to help him," she said, her voice breaking.

Sephiroth's expression softened. "You can help him best by staying out of trouble," he told her before turning and heading to his room.

* * *

Zack thought he was prepared for what would happen once they got him in the prison. They all hated him, and would surely want to make things as difficult as they could. But even so, he still gasped in pain and surprise when they shoved him from behind with such force that he pitched forward onto the cold, hard floor. Agony rippled through his chest from the impact, spreading to all other parts of his body. If he had only been able to bring his hands out to balance himself . . . !

Above him, he could hear the villagers laughing. Then one of them delivered a rough kick to his side, and he grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

"Not so tough now, are you, dog?" the man cackled.

"A cur only needs to be taught its proper place!" chimed a second.

A third bent down, straddling the brunet and grabbing a handful of wild, spiked hair. Abruptly he jerked his arm, forcing Zack's head up and back. "What do you think of this?" he taunted. "You weren't expecting we'd catch you in your crime, were you?"

The SOLDIER's eyes remained impassive as the grizzled face looked down at him. He would endure this in silence. It was useless to speak, and that was probably what they wanted, anyway---to goad him into saying something that they could ridicule. He would not let them be satisfied!

He wondered if he was going to be able to find a way out of here. It would certainly be more difficult, if they were going to leave his hands tied. And what would he be able to do even if he did get free? His sword had been taken from him, and he could not defeat all of the guards plus the townspeople. Would it be possible, or even wise, to try to make friends with the inmates and orchestrate a prison break? They had been unhappy by his interference during the tour earlier that day. Even if he could promise them a way out, they would probably all turn against him. It was probably safer to keep them where they were.

Heavy footsteps approached again, and he looked to see Dalton coming back, presumably from his office. He had gone in ahead of everyone else, and Zack wondered if he had been trying to place a call to Shinra. Now, his almost satiated smile made the raven-haired man's stomach turn in disgust.

"Alright, boys, enough for now," he said, making a show of shooing them away as they protested. "I'm sure you'll have time for your fun later, as I doubt Shinra will be smart enough to grant us our desires." He crouched down, looking into Zack's eyes. "The call is being placed now, in the security room," he announced. "I'll need you there, Mr. Fair, so that they know I'm not bluffing." He smirked. "Can you get up yourself?"

Zack was determined to do so. He did not want this man to mockingly help him stand. He concentrated hard, trying to maneuever first his knees to bend, and then to push his upper body upright. That was easy enough, but standing up from there was definitely harder without the use of his hands. He managed, however, and made it up faster than Dalton seemed to think he would.

The brown-haired man smirked cruelly. "Do follow me," he said.

As the villagers filed out of the building, a guard approached Zack from behind and prodded him in the back with some kind of sharp weapon. He narrowed his eyes, walking forward to catch up to Dalton and wishing fervently that he could escape the poking sensation between his shoulder blades.

One of the console operators looked up as they entered the room a moment later. "Shinra is on the line, sir," he announced, gesturing above him. On every one of the screens in the center row, President Shinra's angry and flabbergasted face could be seen. As Zack was pushed to stand in front of them, the older man's expression darkened further.

"So, you've gotten yourself into quite a predicament," he commented irritably.

Zack tried to grin. "Yep, looks that way, Mr. President," he said cheerfully. "I dunno what these people want, but I could make a guess. . . ."

Dalton crossed his arms, gazing up at the screens as well. "Well, as you can see, this is not a bluff. Your other precious SOLDIER is in my house, unable to do anything about this arrest. Mr. Fair was caught with the deceased's blood on his hands, and the knife had obviously been handled by him. Unless you meet the demands of the village Dismal, he will be executed like the criminal he is, come the dawn."

President Shinra glowered, clenching his fists on his desk. "What do you want, Dalton?" he demanded. "My company has stayed out of your business for years, and it would have remained so, had the rumors of the uprising not circulated!"

The warden smiled again in that sickening way. "We want you to get off the Western continent," he replied. "Dismantle all mako reactors and vacate your bases within a month, beginning within the hour. Unless you'd prefer being sent footage of Mr. Fair dangling from our hangman's noose. And don't think the great Sephiroth would be allowed to leave, either!"

The owner of Shinra Company regarded Dalton with disgust. "I have no guarantee that they would not simply be killed by you even if I did agree to your preposterous request!" he retorted. "Your hatred of Shinra and SOLDIER runs so deep that it eliminates reason!" He leaned back. "But I could still be merciful to you. I could send some of my best construction workers to assist you in rebuilding your village . . ."

"No!" Dalton's eyes blazed. "We don't want any help from you or your foul corporation. The demands are final. Agree, or your men will perish."

President Shinra closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to restrain his temper. Then he opened them again, and they were firm and unshaken. "Very well. I know it's always pointless trying to reason with your kind." He looked to Zack briefly, then back to Dalton. "I will never give in to your foolishness. If Zack and Sephiroth cannot remove themselves from this situation, then I overestimated them as being the best and the strongest SOLDIERs."

Zack watched him, the silent message received. Reinforcements would be sent to them immediately, if they could just hold out long enough. And he would see that they did.

A shiver went up his spine when he saw Dalton's expression only twist further in dark delight. "And that's your final answer?" he asked. It almost seemed that the thought of torturing and killing two SOLDIERs was more pleasing to him than even having his demands met. Had he _wanted_ President Shinra to refuse? Zack was suddenly ten times more disturbed.

President Shinra seemed to notice as well. He hesitated, but then gave a firm nod. "It is."

Dalton chuckled malevolently. "You will regret this, sir," he promised. "But I won't." With that he leaned over and pressed a button on the console. All of the center screens went black, the communiqué ended.

Zack smirked at him. "I think maybe you're putting all those eggs in one basket," he said. "Seph and me, we're pretty tough guys."

Dalton looked up at him, nodding all the while. "Of course, I know," he said. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be Shinra's favorites. But I think your arrogance needs to be taken down a notch. Guard!"

The sentry behind Zack, whom Zack had not yet seen, chuckled low. "Now?" he purred.

Again Zack felt a chill. It was Rakesh.

Dalton met his gaze with cruel delight. "Yes," he confirmed. "But to make it more fun, untie his hands and let him have his weapon." He glanced back to Zack. "Let's see how long you will last, Mr. Fair!"

The wild idea crossed Zack's mind that maybe, when they undid the ropes, he could suddenly break free and run for it. He would not get very far without being able to activate the drawbridge, but maybe, maybe if he could scale the wall, he would be able to leap across the quicksand. Then he and Seph could regroup and decide what to do.

Rakesh reached over, slicing through the bonds with a knife. In the next second, Zack shoved him back and dashed desperately for the door. He made it into the hall, kicking one guard back and grabbing onto the second's weapon. Struggling to tug it loose from the viselike grip, he abandoned the idea when he heard Rakesh and Dalton both tearing after him. Instead he let go without warning and pushed past. If he could just make it to the end of the hall, to the door. . . .

Without warning, more guards stepped into his path at the end of the corridor. The one in the lead held out his spear, jabbing it forward, and before Zack could do anything, crackling fire ripped through his body. He froze, his eyes widening in anguish as the electricity surged through him. It only lasted for a split-second, but that was much too long. Shuddering and gasping, he collapsed to his knees.

He was so foolish! he berated himself. He should have realized such an escape attempt would not work. Well, he _had_ realized, he corrected himself, but he had made up his mind to try it anyway. After all, he would never know for certain until he did. And now he knew. He clutched desperately at the floor tiles, willing the pain to pass.

_Well,_ he tried to joke in his mind, _now I know how a lightbulb would feel, if it could feel anything._

The side of another weapon suddenly and viciously batted him across the head, not hard enough to render him unconscious, but most certainly hard enough to send another, dizzying wave of agony throughout his brain. Unprepared for it, he was knocked off-balance slightly and then kicked to the floor. Rakesh stood over him in twisted amusement, the point of his pole aimed at Zack's chest.

"And now that you've had your little, futile laugh by trying to get away, let's get down to business, shall we?" He grinned, his cerulean eyes flickering with pernicious anticipation.

Zack glared at him. "You'll have to let me up first," he retorted.

Rakesh laughed, stepping aside just enough so that Zack could ease his body into an upright position, but not enough so that he could make another getaway attempt. "I told you that you would have to answer to me eventually," he hissed in an undertone as he watched his soon-to-be victim shakily stand.

Zack kept his hand on the wall for support, his breathing slowing down to normal. His cold gaze clearly said that he was unafraid. He was angry, he was indignant, and he was resolute. He would not let Rakesh have the last laugh.

* * *

It was decided---by Rakesh, of course---that they would have their battle in a bare, windowless back room that was supposed to be the gymnasium. Two guards stood just outside the door, while two more were just inside. The prisoners, delighted at the news that one of the "Shinra dogs" had been captured, were allowed to sit on several rusted bleachers at one side of the room, to watch. A wall made of a chainlink fence was in front of them, to prevent them from running out onto the floor. This was Rakesh's chance to be in the spotlight, and he did not want interference from anyone.

"Alright, dog," he said, still in that same, menacing undertone. "Let's see how ferocious you really are." He and Zack were standing in the center, he with his pole and Zack with his sword. They were looking at each other, each one's eyes filled with firm tenacity. Neither intended on losing, but unless things would end up a draw, someone would have to do so.

Without warning Rakesh lunged, his pole held straight in front of him. Zack then charged as well, crashing his sword against the black, stick part of the weapon. From the steel spear at the top, electricity crackled. The spiky-haired man glowered at it. Of course, the fight would have to be unfairly tipped in the other's favor, instead of giving him a sword to use as well. Or maybe he did not even know how to wield one.

Rakesh sneered, throwing all of his weight into forcing Zack backwards. The SOLDIER held on tightly to the hilt of his sword, standing his ground and trying equally hard to send Rakesh away from him. At last he succeeded, and the sentry stumbled back several steps. Before he could recover, Zack was lunging again.

But the sadistic man had his own ideas. Immediately he leaned forward, crashing the spear against his opponent's blade and keeping it in place for several long, agonizing seconds. Zack stared back at him, his wide eyes filled with endless anguish as the electricity traveled through his sword, to his hands, and into his body. When the force was finally released, he staggered back, breathing heavily as he struggled to stay standing. He had been half-expecting something like this to happen, but that did not lessen the misery.

And before he had a chance to recover, Rakesh was coming at him again. Zack clenched his teeth, constraining himself to raise the sword just in time to block the attack. He would not get any relief until this was over, and maybe not even then. Or maybe that was Seph's pessimism rubbing off on him. In any case, he would have to push himself as he had not been forced to do for some time. He refused to play dirty, as Rakesh was doing. If he could not win honestly, then he did not deserve the victory.

The other dark-haired man sneered at Zack as their weapons crashed. "I have much more where that came from," he said, noting Zack's trembling. "If I turn it up a couple more notches, you wouldn't survive three blasts. Maybe not even two." He leaned in further, kicking Zack in the abdomen as well as pushing him back.

The SOLDIER hissed in pain as he stumbled. But then he charged without warning, surprising Rakesh and sending him back several paces. He could not tell whether the guard believed that he would have an easy triumph, but that would not happen. Zack would show him what it meant to fight one of Shinra's warriors!

The battle became easier for a time. Both moved across the floor gracefully, almost in a dance, as their weapons collided again and again. Rakesh tried once more to shock Zack with the spear, but this time the other was completely ready for it and dodged. Then he swept out, nearly knocking the pole from the sentry's hands. Rakesh faltered, barely managing to keep hold of it as he whirled around. Zack was right there, and brought his sword down against the rod as soon as the other turned.

Throughout it all, the crowd alternately cheered, jeered, and screamed for blood. They were merely an infernal din, somewhere vaguely in the background, to Zack. He did not pay attention to anything they were shouting. He was entirely focused on this fight, and from Rakesh's eyes, it was obviously the same for him.

The dance of combat continued. At some points, it could go either way. At other times, Zack was clearly in the lead. And still, there were periods when Rakesh had the upper hand.

Both lost track of time after a while. The only indication of how long they had been going was their own and each other's increasing weariness. But they continued to attack as fiercely as they possibly could, and both were bleeding from wounds of varying seriousness.

Rakesh doubled over, grinning insanely as he clutched his electropole. "I must admit, it's been a long time since I've experienced such a fulfilling battle," he said, bringing the weapon to his side.

Zack frowned, instantly on guard. Rakesh would never surrender. He must be planning a surprise assault. The SOLDIER held his sword tightly in front of him, trying to ignore the blood running down his arm.

"It's nothing less than I'd expect from one of Shinra's finest." Now the sentry straightened up and half-turned, as if indeed he was going to walk out of the room. "But . . ."

Suddenly he turned back, making a running leap into midair as he jabbed his pole downward at his enemy. "Now it all ends!" he screamed.

He was not prepared for the blade to abruptly connect with the rod. Zack swung it with as much velocity as he could muster, and Rakesh's mouth opened in a silent yelp as he plummeted out of the air and to the floor. The stick flew out of his grasp, and before he could get enough of his bearings to reach for it, Zack had stepped on it with one foot and was leaning forward on the other, pressing the blade against Rakesh's throat.

For a long moment they remained in that position, simply staring at each other as if each wondered what the other would do next. But then Rakesh smirked, seeing something that Zack did not. The spiky-haired man narrowed his eyes, again having that sinking feeling. . . .

Something hard came down on the back of his head. He gasped, his grip on the hilt loosening just enough that Rakesh was able to scramble away and pull his own weapon out from under Zack's foot. The SOLDIER stumbled back further, his balance lost.

As he fell to the floor, he saw that half a dozen guards were surrounding him. Rakesh had played unfairly once again, having secretly recruited others into the battle once he knew that he could not win.

"Do you know what true pain is, Shinra dog?" he asked, his voice dripping with hatred.

Zack lay flat on his back, glaring up at his nemesis as he struggled to keep hold of his weapon.

Rakesh's wicked smile widened. "You're about to find out."

All of the guards lowered their weapons at him, blasting at once.

And Zack could no longer remain silent.

* * *

Sephiroth was sitting in a chair in one of the many richly furnished rooms that looked out at the prison. His still-damp hair was spread around him, the long bangs brushing against his cheeks as he leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

Communications were still out, at least for him. Neither his cellphone nor the telephones in the house would work. He could only hope that Shinra was sending reinforcements after the assumed conversation with Dalton, and that they would arrive in time. But he knew he could not depend on it. He had to be ready to fight in a moment's notice, if need be.

He had not been that hungry, but he had eaten dinner earlier, when the maids prepared it. He would need all the strength he could get for such an assault, if he and Zack alone had to go against everyone else. Even with their combined power, he doubted that they could possibly bring down all of Dismal. But they would die trying, if it came to that.

The bad feeling he had been having ever since Zack had been taken had grown tenfold, and he was certain it was not unfounded. The head guard's words from earlier that day had been weighing on his mind, and it was likely that the monster was having all kinds of "fun" with Zack. And no matter what Zack did, he would probably end up outnumbered. He was a strong fighter, but not even he could manage to battle so many people at once and win.

"Mr. Sephiroth?"

He started. Apparently he had become so caught up in his reverie that he had not heard Maryn enter the room. The clock had chimed two in the morning not that long ago, but apparently the girl had been unable to sleep. He looked over at her, narrowing his eyes when he saw her helplessness and the crystals brimming in her innocent green orbs. Something else had happened.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. Had she heard something else about Zack? If she had, it could not be good news.

Her lower lip trembled. "M-Mr. Dalton had a guard come over and he said . . . he said . . ." Her shoulders shook, and abruptly she was running forward, climbing onto the startled Sephiroth's lap. "He said that they've been hurting Zack!" she wailed, gripping the edges of his dark coat.

The silver-haired man stared down at her. The guard had delivered the message to Maryn and had expected her to bring it to him? He supposed it should not surprise him. They did not stop at any despicable act.

He gripped her small arms, causing her to tearfully look up at him again. "Is that all that was said?" he demanded. Of course this was hard for her to have to talk about, but if there was anything Sephiroth could do, he needed to know it right now. He could not wait for her to finish weeping.

She shook her head weakly. "H-He said that they'd beat him up and shocked him until he couldn't move, and that he was almost un- . . ." Here she paused, biting her lip as she tried to remember the big, unfamiliar word that they had used.

"Unconscious?" Sephiroth supplied in a grim tone.

That sounded right. She nodded, more tears leaking down her face. "And . . . and he said that Pres'dent Shinra wouldn't give them what they wanted. . . ." And while she did not know what that meant, either, she knew it was bad from the way the man had smirked when he had said it.

None of this surprised Sephiroth, but it angered him. He wanted to go to his friend, he wanted to get him out of the prison and leave with him, even without their mission accomplished. But that could not be. They could not allow all of this to be in vain. That was the last thing Zack would want, and Sephiroth would not concede defeat to these eco-terrorists! There had to be a way to rescue Zack and also beat these men, crazed with the idea of spilling the blood of SOLDIERs.

He gazed down at the child as she began to sob again in earnest, burying her face against his chest. She was afraid for Zack, and upset that he had been injured. And he did not blame her. He was afraid and upset too. Slowly he released her arms, his hands falling back onto the arms of the chair.

"Crying isn't going to help anything," he muttered, not unkindly.

"I know," she answered sadly, her voice muffled.

He sighed. "How long ago did this happen to Zack?"

"It . . . I guess it must've been hours ago. . . ." She looked up at him, struggling to wipe away the rest of her tears. "He said Zack was still laying in his cell, and that he hadn't moved much at all!"

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. They had hurt the brunet seriously.

He let her stay on his lap as he turned his attention to the window. It had been hours now, and the sands seemed to have quieted, but the sky was still gray and dark and ominous. All the lights at the prison were on, as they had been, and there were other lights approaching---many red-orange, flickering beams. He sat up straighter. _Torches . . . the villagers were back._ He could hear them laughing wretchedly as they all began to walk over the open drawbridge. But . . . why were they able to get through? Why had it been lowered in the middle of the night?

The realization hit him sharply, as a slap in the face. They were not going to wait until sunrise to execute Zack.

Immediately he stood, lifting Maryn in his strong arms and then setting her in the chair. "I have to go," he told her, grabbing up his sword from where he had leaned it against a nearby table.

She swallowed hard, blinking back a new round of tears. "Are you going to save Zack?" she asked softly.

He hesitated, then nodded. Of course he would.

She gave him a shaky smile before he turned, heading out of the room.

* * *

Zack hissed, holding a hand over his throbbing side. He had been laying in the same position for hours on his cot---at least he imagined it had been hours. Maybe it had only been five minutes. Several times he had attempted to rise, but had soon given it up as impossible when the dizziness almost entirely had overwhelmed him. Even being horizontal, with his eyes shut, did little to quell it.

_If this is the damage those things can do when they're set to a low speed, I don't wanna know what it feels like when they're going full blast!_ he thought ruefully.

He had to admit, he was grateful that he had been given one of the few vacant chambers. Maybe they had been afraid that if they put him with anyone else, he would end up dead and they would not get to kill him themselves. Wow . . . Seph's oh-so-cheerful personality really was rubbing off on him.

He wondered where Seph was, and if he was alright. Had he heard yet, that President Shinra had refused the demands and that the execution was still going to happen on schedule? What were they going to do if their backup was not able to get there soon enough? The last thing he wanted was to end up hanging from the gallows the next day. And it certainly would not do if Sephiroth joined him.

His dream had indicated that he himself had lived, while Sephiroth had been the one to die. Would that still take place? No . . . it could not. Sephiroth would not let it, nor would Zack. If at all possible, they would both make it out alive.

As if from far away, he heard the rusty door to his cell creak open, and heavy footsteps trooped over to his bed. "Get up, cur," laughed one of the guards, and struck Zack across the face.

He was too weakened to make any kind of response. But he winced from the force of the blow.

"Still defiant, eh?" taunted a second.

Without warning Zack suddenly found himself on the floor. The thin mattress had been pulled right out from underneath him! He groaned, placing a hand on the concrete as he sluggishly tried to move away from his tormentors. Why, why could they not leave him alone now? He wanted to lay on the bed longer, to maybe be able to sleep a while. He probably had slept somewhat, unnaturally in unconsciousness, but he wanted a normal slumber, one that might be able to rejuvenate him before they tried to end his life. Of course, it would be too much to hope that they would show him any kind of courtesy.

Before he could succeed in even moving an inch, the sentries were hauling him up, draping his limp arms over their broad shoulders. "Come on, you," the first snapped, calling Zack a foul name.

Zack tried to get his feet under him as they began to drag him out into the corridor. Through his blurry vision, he could see that they were moving in a direction he only vaguely recalled from the tour. At the end of the hallway, they turned to the left and walked down another corridor, and at the end of it, it looked like he could see a door. Where did it lead? He could not quite remember what Dalton had said. . . .

It led out into a courtyard, he thought, and people would gather there to watch. . . . To watch what? Even now, he could hear the yells and chants of a mob outside.

His eyes widened, and he snapped back to awareness as much as he was able. They were going to kill him now! That had to be it. He had to get away. He was in no condition to put up a very good fight! But then, that was probably what they had been wanting.

He struggled, trying desperately to pull free from his captors.

They held on tighter. "Starting to come around, eh?" sneered the second. "You're not so arrogant now."

At the door, they were met by Dalton, who smirked and held it open for them. "Why, Mr. Fair," he mocked, "you don't seem to be enjoying our hospitality." He laughed cruelly, seeming to find it a hilarious joke. Zack looked away from him.

The villagers had made two long lines on either side of the door, and as Zack was mercilessly pulled to the end of the path, the constant, deplorable taunts and jeers from the crowd rang in his ears. It was the same sort of thing over and over---he deserved what they were doing, since he belonged to SOLDIER. No one from Shinra was any good, especially the more highly-ranked said person happened to be. Obscene curses and phrases came from some of the others, as well as gestures of the same breeding.

Zack tried to block all of it out, just as he had done during the fight with Rakesh. Instead he tugged and pulled, kicked and flailed, his desperation mounting. The men dragging him to his demise looked as though they wanted more than anything to throw him to the ground as punishment, but they did not dare. If they let go of him at all, he would try to scramble away. But he had to get free! He did not want to die. He would not die, not here, not now. It would not serve any good purpose. And he had to stay alive to help Seph. . . .

They reached the gallows, lit up eerily by the townspeople's torches. In the dim light, it almost looked like some sort of sinister and rancorous beast laying in wait for its next victim. The two guards hauled their prisoner onto the platform of the creature, wrenching his arms behind him as he stumbled forward, his legs shaking.

His heart was pounding and racing wildly. He would not go quietly, as he had done several hours earlier! He would not stand for this treatment! He strained against their grips, finally resorting to kicking behind him. His foot connected with something, maybe a knee, and he heard a rough growl and an oath from one of the men.

Dalton had ascended the platform from the other side, and now Zack could see that he was the one holding the noose. His expression twisted malevolently as he leaned forward to drape it around the raven-haired man's neck. "Welcome to Dismal," he hissed.

Zack drew back, feeling the other's hot breath on his face. Then, with a burst of adrenaline, he lashed out and struck the warden on the knee. Dalton fell back, still clutching the rope.

Now the spiky-haired man pulled again, frantically, tearing loose from the two sentries as he urgently ran across the wooden planks. If he could just get to the other side! If he could just get down from there, and if he just had his weapon to be able to fight through the crowds . . . !

Rakesh smirked at him as he walked up the steps to the platform, brandishing his spear in front of him. "It's so good to see you again, Shinra dog," he said, his eyes glittering with hate. "This time, there's no escape."

Zack clenched his fists. He was being surrounded again, but he would not accept that! He lunged forward, snatching Rakesh's weapon and then shoving it back into the other man. With a surprised gasp, the guard tumbled back down the stairs to crash unceremoniously into a group of men with torches held high. They yelled in consternation, stumbling back into those behind them, and pandemonium was unleashed.

Now Zack made a half-turn, rushing towards the back of the platform. He would jump down and run. That was his only possible choice. . . .

The rope suddenly went around his neck from behind, pulling taut as it quickly began to burn the inside of his throat. He gasped, his eyes beginning to water as he clawed at it with his fingers. No . . . no, he was not going to die this way! He would not, he would _not_. . . .

The planks fell out, dragging him back into place near the front and leaving an empty hole where the floor had been. Panic and anger surged through him as he dangled there, still tearing at the rope with his hands and trying to find something with which to get his footing. But it was hopeless. Every fibre of his body was screaming that this could not be, that he had to be able to find a way out. Yet . . . if he could not, then . . . then it was only fitting that he accept this fate and die with dignity. His hands dropped.

The people were still taunting, still jeering, pleased to see him hanging there, unable to do anything to defend himself. The words did not affect him. Nothing they could say could really bother him. Nothing at all. . . .

"Where's your friend, dog? Did he skip out, trying to save himself?"

It pierced him sharply, more painfully than any of the shocks from the electropoles. No! No, Seph would never do that. Seph was his best friend, not just his compatriot. But . . . where was he? Why was he not here? Were they trying to kill him somewhere else? Was he in some other kind of a jam? That was the only reason why he would not be here. Zack shut his eyes tightly. Whatever was wrong, Seph would find a way out, somehow. Even if Zack did not survive, Seph had to.

Footsteps began to move up to the platform, steadily yet swiftly. Now what? Zack opened his eyes again. A man in a black cloak, along with the traditional executioner's mask, was coming to stand on the edge of the planks. He regarded Zack with his shaded eyes, then looked to Dalton on the other side.

"You started without me," he said flatly. "I don't appreciate it."

Dalton shrugged. "It was the only way we could keep him from making a run for it. Even after the beating he took . . ." He trailed off, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

Zack followed his gaze just in time to see the flash of a blade. Then, suddenly, the rope was sliced through and he crashed through the gaping hole, landing on the ground underneath it. Was it possible? Was this real? Yes! He was free! And he could breathe. . . . He shuddered and gasped, gulping in the precious air as his hands flew to his neck. Coughs racked his body, but he barely paid attention.

Something hit the ground next to him. He looked up with a start, seeing the familiar blade of a sword. His sword. . . . He blinked, shakily reaching for the hilt. Where had it come from? And . . . the executioner. . . . Could it be . . . ?

He looked up questioningly as the other man stared down at him. In his left hand he was holding the blade that he had used to cut through the deathrope.

"If you're feeling up to it, you'd better take that," he declared, indicating Zack's sword. "We've got a long way to go before we'll be able to get out of here." He threw off the cloak and the hood. There was no point any longer in keeping up this charade. His sword and his actions had already revealed the truth.

Zack broke into a grin, using the sword to balance on as he pulled himself upright. "You took your time," he said, giving Sephiroth a mock salute.

The silver-haired man grunted. "It couldn't be helped," he answered, and turned to deal with whoever would be the first of their challengers.


	6. Fulfillment Two

**Chapter Six**

Even though Dalton had been initially stunned by Sephiroth's sudden appearance, he quickly got over his shock. His face twisted in a wild, crazed expression, revealing all of his gleaming teeth as well as his flashing eyes. And, as he watched the silver-haired man cut down one of the guards, as well as Zack climbing up through the hole in the platform, he began to laugh.

"Well, of course!" he chortled. "Where are my manners? Imagine, trying to execute Mr. Fair without allowing the great Sephiroth the chance to watch." He reached into his pocket for his gun. "Really, sir, it was a test. I wanted to see if you would figure things out, and then if you did, if you could find a way to get in here. And I have not been disappointed." He smirked, the metal gleaming in his hand as he started to raise it.

Sephiroth was only half-listening, occupied now with the villagers that were rushing at him. Interestingly, he seemed to be trying to keep them alive, and was dodging the swings of their torches and the kicks of their feet. They were outraged at having their "fun" interrupted, and they were acting like fools because of it! Dalton frowned slightly. It would serve them right if Sephiroth did cut any of them down. At least, if they were going to fight, they should be smart enough to set their torches aside and get their weapons. Honestly, he wondered if he had made a mistake by thinking that they were ready to go up against SOLDIER.

He brought the gun level with the back of Sephiroth's head. He did not expect to kill the other now, especially when he was constantly moving about, but it would surely be possible to graze him at least---to distract him and taunt him.

A sword abruptly connected with the revolver, sending it flying out of Dalton's hands to fire harmlessly into the wood underneath him. Quickly he looked up, finding himself staring at an unhappy Zack. The brunet was smirking darkly, his eyes obviously showing his displeasure.

"I know it's probably a foreign concept to you, but why not try to fight fairly sometime?" he said, holding the sword out in front of him.

Dalton chuckled. "You speak of fighting fairly, but do you practice what you preach?" he retorted.

"I always try my best." Zack hoped that his fatigue was not showing. He had been given his second wind when Sephiroth had set him loose, but he did not know how long it would last. The whole situation still seemed hopeless, but he was not ready to give up. He would battle to the best of his abilities, and he would not let Seph down! He would not let himself down, either.

Now Dalton smirked. "Well, you'll have quite a challenge," he answered. "Let's see how honestly you can fight when . . ."

Semi-automatic gunfire zipped past, peppering the structure from which the noose hung. Zack leaped back, staring in disbelief at the newly-made holes. What was going on? Who was even firing? He looked over to Sephiroth, who had also stopped and was surveying the courtyard with narrowed eyes.

"There," he said then, pointing to a figure on the roof of the prison.

Again Dalton broke into raucous laughter. "It seems that I still have some surprises in store," he remarked. "You may have suspected I had weapons, good sir, but did you imagine that the convicts would be wielding some of them?" He also gazed upward, watching as more figures appeared. Each one was holding a weapon, and several others threw more over the side of the building, to be caught by some of the villagers. As they accepted, they extinguished their torches and prepared for combat.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. This was not something he had expected. There were not that many townspeople to begin with, but when two people had to fight them, there were too many. And with the convicts added to those numbers. . . .

Dalton raised a hand. "Ready?" he called. Guns clicked in unison. "Aim. . . ."

Zack backed up against the other, tightly gripping his sword. "Hoo boy," he muttered. "Are you ready for this, Seph?"

"No," Sephiroth grunted, "but there's no choice. We'll have to be ready."

Zack grinned weakly. "Looks like we might still meet up in the afterlife today."

Instead of answering, Sephiroth jumped down to the ground. They would have to keep moving as much as possible in order to have the best protection they could, under the circumstances. It was difficult to hit a target that would not stay still. Zack knew this as well, of course, and he leaped down in the opposite direction. Staying alive might be able to be accomplished, but staying alive as well as eliminating the threat was going to be a tall order. They were hopelessly outnumbered on all sides.

"_FIRE!"_

Immediately bullets began to rain upon them. Zack somersaulted, twisted, and danced around the yard, deflecting the shots as he looked for a good place to take cover. They would have only been sitting ducks under the gallows, and there was really no other place. If they could just somehow lure everyone into the prison and trap them there . . . !

A bullet clipped his cheek as a gunner dropped into his path. He continued to fire at close range, while Zack began to walk backwards, using his sword as a shield as he went. This was going to quickly become exhausting, even moreso than swordfighting. There were so many little bits of ammunition, coming constantly at him from so many angles, and he had to keep perfectly alert to match all of them. If he missed even one, well, that could be the end for him.

All the while, his mind was turning, plotting, trying to sort out this mad idea of his. The only way to get everyone trapped in the prison would be if he could disable the control panel for the drawbridge, as well as to get Dalton's remote control. He and Seph would still be able to get out by using that device, and surely no one would dare to try following them by scaling the wall and risk falling into the quicksand. His earlier thoughts of being able to leap over the mire really were absurd. It was much too wide for anyone to be able to clear.

And there was another problem. Would everyone follow him and Seph inside, or would some of them suspect the trap? It would be so easy to do this if there was an entire army. Then the enemy could be surrounded and herded inside. But that would not be possible with only two.

Zack narrowed his eyes as a second gunman approached him from another angle. Desperately he swerved and turned, back and forth, deflecting everything he possibly could and dodging the rest. He was still heading towards the side entrance to the building, but if he managed to get in, then what? There were quite probably others already within, just waiting for the chance to attack. But he would not concede defeat yet. And he knew Seph would not. Even if they could not win, they had to be able to keep things going until the other SOLDIERs arrived.

He backed up against the door, pushing it open with his foot. Then, diving into the apparently empty corridor, he slammed the door shut in the faces of his pursuers. It would only take them a moment to haul it open again, but he would use that split-second to get a bit of a headstart.

Not waiting to see what they were doing, he turned and fled down the hallway that was against the lefthand wall. Glass broke and bullets soared in behind him through the new opening in the door, one whizzing into the stone right above his head. Not skipping a beat, he continued to run. If he could get to the security room, and figure out how to shut down the control panel. . . . Though, it would be dangerous to do that without first securing the remote control. The last thing he wanted to do was to trap him and Seph in here with everyone. And where was Dalton, anyway?

He dashed around another corner. This corridor was also vacant, and he laid his hand on the wall as he paused to catch his breath. It surprised him, that no one seemed to be in here. Had everyone gone up to the roof? Not that he was complaining, but it seemed odd somehow, and it made him uneasy.

It was also a surprise, and a relief, that he had managed to keep going, even with all of his injuries. But, he supposed, trying to keep from being killed could give one quite an adrenaline rush. Once it wore off, however, he would probably be even more weary and exhausted than he had been before. That was not something to look forward to.

The last thing he was expecting was for the wall to abruptly give way, sending him falling down into nothingness. A startled scream escaped his lips as he landed harshly onto a slippery material, one that spiraled downward and further downward, under the surface of the prison and of the earth. The ride itself was not that bad; it was somewhat like a child's slide. But as he slammed against one metal side, then another, he could feel the bumps and bruises forming, and already-existing bumps and bruises were jarred again. By the time he crashed at the bottom on a soft mattress, he felt extremely banged up.

". . . Ow," he moaned.

For what was only a few seconds, he lay sprawled in the softness, still holding onto his sword. It would be so nice, to just lay there and go to sleep. But of course it was impossible. He had to get out of here, to find Seph and help him. Seph could not be expected to do all the rest alone. Zack would never think of it!

Slowly he pushed himself into a kneeling position. He had fallen into a hollowed-out tunnel, lit by small lights on the rough, stone walls. Stacked to one side, next to an opening leading down another corridor, were at least a dozen crates. All had been opened, and as Zack climbed off the mattress and walked over to them, he could see nothing but straw inside. But what had been in them originally? Carter had mentioned crates being delivered on a train. Had the weapons arrived in these containers?

He looked up at the entrance to the passageway. Where did that lead? It was the wrong time to explore, but he had to find the way out of here---and aside from the near-impossibility of climbing back up the slide, this was the only way. He would just have to be on his guard. There was no telling what he might meet inside.

The tunnel was much more dimly lit than the room he was in, and as he slowly stepped forward to enter, something suddenly shot out at him from the darkness. As quickly as he could, he brought his sword up to meet the opposition. It was a prison guard, and as their weapons clashed, Zack got the upper hand and cut the other down. This was a war now. All of Dismal had been turned into a battlefield, and under those conditions, it was kill or be killed.

Breathing heavily, the SOLDIER lowered his sword and gazed at the body. Blood pooled under and around the corpse, and the weapon had slipped from the limp fingers. The form had been that of an older man, perhaps in his forties. His short, whitish-blond hair was tousled now, his expression a mixture of shock, pain, and something unidentifiable. Hatred? Regret? Sadness? Even, all three? That would not be known now.

Zack sighed, turning to go deeper into what might well be a labyrinth. There would be many more deaths before this was over.

* * *

Sephiroth was busy as well, having been dodging a near-constant stream of bullets as well as fighting off the prison guards who still held electropoles. The courtyard was fairly well-lit by the torches that had been set up against the back of the building, and the dancing flames cast mysterious shadows and shapes against the walls, the ground, and the gallows. The various people, as they fought, became demons, chimeras, and other unsightly creatures---thanks to that effect.

Dalton had managed to slink away during the melee. That irritated the SOLDIER, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Somehow he doubted that the other was a coward, especially when things were vastly tipped in his favor. No, he had probably gone to plot something else foul, and it would be learned within time. Hopefully it would be in enough time to stop him.

Zack had vanished too. Sephiroth had lost track of him, but from what he remembered, the brunet had been heading toward the side of the prison, almost as if attempting to draw his attackers inside.

It certainly would be useful, if they could all be contained somewhere until backup would arrive---which might not be for hours yet. If Zack's plan was to try to trap everyone in the prison, while allowing him and Sephiroth an escape route, then Sephiroth was not surprised. Could such a feat be achieved? The same doubts Zack carried were also in Sephiroth's mind. Overall, the strategy was extremely risky, and very likely would not even work in the first place. Zack realized that, of course. And he and Sephiroth also were aware that there were not really other options.

Another gunner sprang at him in midair, firing viciously. Sephiroth raised his sword to meet the assailant head-on, deflecting several shots before impaling the other man through the stomach. The eyes widened in a silent gasp of agony, and the SOLDIER swiftly extracted the blade, letting the body crash to the sand.

He no sooner had done so before someone else dropped down in back of him. The sadistic chuckle was all too familiar, and as he whirled, the Masamune held high, he found himself staring at Rakesh.

"Fight me, Shinra dog," the dark-haired man hissed. His rod had been abandoned. Now he was holding a sword of his own, having drawn it up in front of him as he clasped it. From the sneer that began to grace his features, he was very good with a blade, and was most likely assured of his victory.

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. That over-confidence would be his downfall.

Their blades crashed, the sound echoing off the nearby wall. Each shoved hard at the other as they attempted to tip the score in their favor, and despite Rakesh's very slender form, he was quite strong. Sephiroth gritted his teeth as they struggled, at last managing to push back the guard. Then he lunged, his hair streaming out behind him. Rakesh met the attack instantly, the swords clanging together again.

As they moved across the courtyard, locked in their dance of combat, Sephiroth focused on deciphering the other's style and his weaknesses. Rakesh attacked very offensively, and also with daring, as if taunting Sephiroth to retaliate. Then, at the last moment, he would lash out with an assault of his own. It was not a strategy to be used lightly or thoughtlessly. Rakesh would have no guarantee that Sephiroth would always take the defensive path.

And he was not going to. He struck out furiously, meeting another of Rakesh's powerful attacks and forcing him back. By now they were right up against the wall of the prison, and Rakesh suddenly smirked. He had been backed into a door, and now he swung his blade back to shatter the glass in the top half. Sephiroth was forced to shield his eyes, and Rakesh did as well, pushing himself inside as he did so. Hearing the door open, Sephiroth opened his eyes and charged forward.

Had the sentry just used the door as a convenient way to continue the battle, or was he hoping to lead Sephiroth into a trap of his own? The silver-haired man narrowed his eyes. He was not going to take any chances. He would have to be ready for any possible trick that his nemesis might pull.

"Your ally put up a good fight," Rakesh sneered as their blades crashed. "All of the inmates came to watch."

Sephiroth glowered at him. "Aren't you afraid that they will eventually turn their rounds on you?" he retorted. Now Rakesh was steadily heading toward the front of the prison, back to the room where the two men had been grappling earlier. And, Sephiroth recalled, the room that Zack had seen in his dream. While he was still not certain what to think about it coming to pass, he did know one fact for certain---his own dream had been fulfilled, even down to the "numbers" holding the guns. That had symbolized the convicts taking part in the battle.

The blue-eyed man laughed. "No, not really," he said.

He leaned in closer. "I and some of the other guards nearly killed him, you know."

Sephiroth regarded him coldly. "He didn't look anywhere near dead, when I saw him last."

As they reached the location in question, Rakesh backed up gracefully against a barrier. In that first room, near the back, there was a staircase leading up to a balcony that overlooked the area. Dalton had not taken them up there, pointing out the poor condition of the wooden steps. Sephiroth had asked him why he did not take the time and expense to repair them, and Dalton had smirked, saying that it was unnecessary and that the platform was merely a convenience for the guards to stand on and observe the prisoners. Zack had then muttered that Dalton's entire house was a "convenience", but only Sephiroth had heard.

Now Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Rakesh grinned, leaping over the barrier and landing on one of the stairs. "I've been up here many times, and nothing has happened," he announced. "Are you afraid, cur?" The step creaked loudly in protest at the sudden pressure, more than would be normal.

"You should be. It's going to break," Sephiroth said flatly. He stood to the side, then brought his blade against Rakesh's when the other lunged for an attack. If his enemy wanted to get himself killed on the steps instead of by Sephiroth's hand, that was fine with him. That would save Sephiroth some time and trouble. He needed to find Zack.

Rakesh's wild laughter continued to resonate through the room as he swiftly ascended the rest of the stairs and walked to the railing at the edge of the platform. "You should be the one to fear," he said, reaching into his pocket.

Instantly Sephiroth tensed. What was he getting? Another weapon? Some kind of smoke bomb? A grenade, even? He gripped the sword tightly, walking so that he was not directly underneath the spot where Rakesh was standing.

He blinked in astonishment when the other man withdrew a small device that looked almost identical to Dalton's remote control. Was it Dalton's? Or was this something new, something Rakesh owned? Did it even perform the same operation? Judging from the raven-haired man's expression, twisted in sick delight, he had a very definite plot in mind that revolved around this object.

"Are you wondering what this is?" he purred. "It's a little something Dalton and I devised. We know, of course, that Shinra is sending backup for you. And we also know that it won't likely arrive in time to save your lives." His wicked grin broadened. "But what will be left for whatever survivors there are after that battle? To be held in a Shinra prison . . . nothing could be more demeaning. It would be better to have died."

Sephiroth gripped the sword tighter. Rakesh's meaning was clear. What he was holding was a detonation device. "You're going to blow up the prison," he retorted. He did not doubt that this man and Dalton would be mad enough to do it. They were willing to stoop to any level to make certain that Shinra did not have a victory. He should have considered the possibility of something like this happening.

Rakesh chuckled. "We'll all go down, with our enemies," he agreed. "But it doesn't stop there! To make sure we obliterate everyone, bombs have also been placed in the house next door and the servants' quarters. When Shinra arrives, they will find the remainder of this village razed, and their SOLDIERs dead!"

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed darkly. Not even Maryn would be safe from this treachery. If Zack was here, he would probably try to talk to Rakesh, righteously furious at such a scheme. But Sephiroth knew that all talk was pointless. Rakesh would not listen, and it would be wasted breath and energy to try. Right now, the only words would be spoken with his blade. He had to get that detonator.

He lashed out with the Masamune, easily slicing the old wooden barrier in two. Then he began to ascend the stairs carefully, deliberately. Time was of the essense, but there was not any point in being reckless and foolish by running. Just moving at a normal speed was causing the planks to tremble and groan, and several times it felt as though they would simply disintegrate underfoot. Getting down again was likely going to be a problem, but he would worry about that when the time came.

Rakesh's eyes lit up as Sephiroth reached the top of the narrow space. "Everything I just told you is true," he smiled, "but I won't deny that I figured bragging about it would get you to risk your own safety and come up here." He dangled the device in front of him. "It controls every one of the bombs. And if it's destroyed, all of them still automatically go off." With that he placed it in his pocket again, over his heart. "That will make it that much difficult for you."

Sephiroth glared at him. It did not matter what he tried. He would still be defeated. Sephiroth would not allow it to be otherwise. He could be victorious without stabbing Rakesh through the heart.

Now they resumed their combat. It was much more difficult on this space, which was barely big enough for both of them and their swords. Their blades crashed repeatedly, with each man straining to force back the other. Several times, when a sword hit the wall, chips of plaster and paint would rain to the floor---which was not much stronger than the stairs.

"Maybe we'll both plunge through to our deaths," smirked Rakesh as he leaned in close. "And maybe I will land on my stomach and the detonator will activate."

Sephiroth pushed him back with the pressure from the Masamune. _Or,_ he said silently,_ maybe none of that will happen._ He would not allow the other's taunting to bother him. He would take it, using it to become more focused on his goal.

As they fought, Sephiroth wondered about Zack. What had happened to him? Was he alright? And what were the rebels doing? Had they found Zack and surrounded him? Were they making sure all the bombs were in place? Could Zack have found some of the bombs and be attempting to dismantle them?

Rakesh slashed at him. Sephiroth dodged, swinging his blade. It cut through Rakesh's uniform to his arm, and he winced in pain. But he was not stunned for long. He feinted, moving to the left, and Sephiroth did not allow himself to be deceived. He struck again, the Masamune tearing into Rakesh's side.

The blue-eyed man blinked, following Sephiroth's gaze to the wound. Then, as the blade began to be withdrawn, he slowly looked up at his enemy. "Good!" he cackled. "Good! It's been a while since any opponent has succeeded in wounding me this much." He smirked sickeningly. "But . . ."

He lunged, causing the sword to plunge through his side again. "It's not good enough!"

It happened in a split-second, with Sephiroth unable to do anything. Rakesh's sword pierced his flesh, entering at the left side of his collarbone. The silver-haired man's eyes widened in anguish. The pain was excruciating. He could feel the sword scraping the bone as it went directly beneath it. Then Rakesh started to push it in further, backing Sephiroth up against the wall. Was he going to try to drive the blade all the way through? Had he wanted to stab him through the heart, but miscalucated? Or had this been on purpose, and he wanted to torture Sephiroth before killing him?

He clenched his teeth, his hands shaking as he held onto the hilt of the Masamune. How would he even raise his arm to be able to attack again? Maybe that was what Rakesh had wanted, to render Sephiroth's dominant arm useless, to make him feel acute helplessness, before killing him. He could not tell if Rakesh had severed that part of his collarbone. He did not think so, but there was so much burning fire in the wound that it could definitely be possible.

Now Rakesh was close enough that Sephiroth could feel his breath against his face. "Now," he hissed, "you die, and then everyone dies." He held onto his own blade, as if he was going to suddenly force it downward to the other's heart. "This is such a fitting end for you. SOLDIERs find it a great honor to die in battle, don't they?" He sneered. "I'm sure they'll give you a splendid memorial service."

Sephiroth glowered back at him, tensing as the blade went in another inch. This was pathetic. He would not stand here and let this madman win. Never!

He kicked out viciously, striking Rakesh in the abdomen. Not having expected it, the other gasped, stumbling back and letting go of his weapon. Immediately Sephiroth lunged, impaling him in that same spot while at the same time reaching for his pocket.

Again they were next to each other. Rakesh shuddered, feeling the blood coming to his throat. With both hands, he shakily reached up to snatch Sephiroth's wrist, to tear it away from his pocket. But, as he leaned further against the railing, it began to crack from the weight. He knew he was going to die.

He looked up hatefully at Sephiroth. To be defeated by a SOLDIER, and especially one that still had Rakesh's blade piercing him---what greater disgrace could there be for one who abhorred SOLDIER wholeheartedly? He deserved death, he decided. He pushed his body further against the railing, willing it to tear asunder.

And then, it did. For one long second he hung there, Sephiroth still clutching his pocket and being the only thing between him and the fatal fall. "Shinra dog," he hissed.

Time moved again. The pocket ripped free, along with the device, and Rakesh plunged backwards to the bottom. The sickening thump and snap told Sephiroth that the guard was dead.

Sephiroth himself had stumbled back when the railing had broke, and now he breathed heavily as he gripped the detonator in one hand and the Masamune in the other. It had been painful, to attack with the sword despite his own injuries, but at least, since he had stabbed Rakesh in the stomach, he had not had to raise that arm. That would have made it worse for him.

Now he coughed, the blood rising in his own throat. He was beginning to feel light-headed, but his wounds would have to wait another moment. Shakily he looked down at the device, which was making a low humming sound. There were two visible controls on it---a switch marked "On/Off", and a red button, obviously what activated the bombs. He moved the switch to the Off position, and the humming ceased. In a minute, it was entirely cool to the touch. Then he slipped it into his own pocket. Hopefully, that would be enough to stop the bombs.

Taking hold of Rakesh's blade, he began to ease it out of his flesh. His hands were trembling, and his vision blurred, but he narrowed his eyes as he forced himself to focus. Every inch the sword moved was a new adventure in pain. His eyes widened, and his teeth clenched, as he finally drew it out the rest of the way. Then he stabbed it downward, into the platform.

He had to get down from here now. . . . He had to get down and find Zack, to see what had happened and to assist in the remainder of the battle.

Dizziness swept over him more insistently and he staggered forward, gasping as he reached up to clutch the deep wound. He did not think the blade had gone all the way through, but at this point, he was not in any condition to figure it out.

He had to force himself to ignore the pain. He was a SOLDIER; he could endure pain better than many could. With great effort he straightened up, sheathing his sword. Then he started to make his way to the staircase. It still looked as steep and frail as before, but maybe it would hold him again. He would have to try. . . .

Slowly he placed his bloodied right hand on the railing and stepped down to the first stair. It shrieked, but held fast. Encouraged, he moved to the next one.

On the third step, dizziness washed over him again, and he doubled over as the cough returned, more persistantly. The stair wailed, as if telling him to get going already. But he could not go yet. Everything was swimming out of focus and the pain was nearly overwhelming. He narrowed his eyes. It would be a lot worse if he did not press forward.

The next step was quieter, and the next, louder. The sound rang in his ears, and a hand flew to his head as the headache he had discovered grew worse. He had to keep going . . . he had to. . . . He could not give in. . . .

He could not remember which step it was that finally gave way. All he recollected was gasping in shock and then agony as he tumbled to the bottom. The trip seemed to last for hours, though it was only several seconds. He crashed hard on his stomach, sprawled half on the floor and the pieces of the barrier, and half on the two bottom stairs, which were now splattered red with his blood.

For a moment he lay, stiff and frozen, his eyes wide as he gripped as his sword, the stairs, anything he could as he tried to bear the immense, ripping pain throughout his left shoulder. It almost felt as if _it _had been torn asunder. But when he looked over at it, even through his weakening vision, he saw that it was still attached. Probably the damage was not as bad as it seemed to be. . . . Or it could always be worse. He had certainly lost a lot of blood.

His limbs slackened. It helped if he accepted the agony instead of resisting it. It was a lesson he had taught to the other SOLDIERs. Now it was time that he would have to teach himself, he thought wryly.

His eyes sank closed, but he remained conscious.

* * *

It seemed ages later when Zack at last found the end of the tunnel. There was a hole in the ceiling, with a ladder underneath it, and from the light that was shining through, it looked like a well-furnished room above. Was he back at Dalton's home? He frowned deeply. This would require caution, in case there were villagers above. Maybe they were staking out this spot, just waiting for him to attempt exiting.

Carefully he gripped either side of the ladder, placing his foot on the bottom rung. All seemed sturdy and well, and he swiftly yet softly made his way up. Vaguely in the distance, it sounded as though he could hear more shots being fired, as well as screams. What was going on? Was Seph still out there, battling the townsfolk? Or . . . could it be that the reinforcements had arrived?

He peered out of the opening, still moving with wariness. The room was unfamiliar. It was brightly lit, and on the side he was facing, there were rows of shelves and books, as in a library. There was also a world globe next to a wine colored, plush chair, and a long end table to the side of that.

"So nice of you to join us, Mr. Fair."

That was Dalton's voice! Immediately the brunet turned in the direction of it. The warden was standing several feet away, tightly holding Maryn around the neck as he lifted her off the floor. In his other hand, he clutched what looked like the remote control. The child was trembling, obviously frightened, but her eyes brightened when she saw who was coming out of the trapdoor.

"Zack!" she exclaimed, tugging at Dalton's thick arm as she tried to pull it away. "You're okay!"

Zack tried to give her a smile, but the outrage over Dalton's actions was boiling in his soul. There was nothing this man would shy away from doing! "What are you doing?" he demanded. "Put her down!" He stepped onto the solid floor and stood up straight, reaching for his sword.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Dalton sneered, indicating the remote control. "Though, actually, I guess it doesn't matter what you do. We'll all die now."

His tone was enough to make Zack pause. That device . . . was it something different than what he used to open the drawbridge? It was the same shape, size, and color, but the look in the other's eyes said that this was not a bluff, that this was something of which to be concerned. When he spoke again, his tone became even more frenzied.

"Listen!" he cried. "Your precious help is out there, felling the people of Dismal. They think they're going to win. But I'll have the last laugh. Both Rakesh and I have one of these, so that if by some chance one of us falls, the other can carry out our plan! With these little containers, we hold life and death in our hands!" He held it out further, as if showing it off to his nemesis. "I will make all the bombs in Dismal go off! All I have to do is to press this button." He indicated a raised-up place on the box that was glowing red.

Zack could only stare. What?! They were going to blow up Dismal?! Even though it had been obvious that they were drunken with hatred, he had not imagined that they would take it this far! And where was Rakesh? Did Seph know what was going to happen? He had to find a way to stop this!

"For once, you can't think of anything to say." Dalton smirked. "Oh, and you can't destroy this, either. Cutting it with your sword, stomping on it, or some other such thing will still make everything activate." As long as it was turned on, anyway. But Zack did not need to know that part of it. Let him think that there was no hope! He would never get it away from Dalton.

Maryn struggled against him, panicked as she vainly kicked her legs against his knees. "You're an awful man!" she screamed. Even though she did not understand everything, she knew that a bomb was a bad thing, something that would cause a lot of trouble. And if she did not know, it was all written in Zack's expression.

Finally he found his voice. "You can't do this!" he burst out. What was _he_ going to do? He had to get Maryn away from him, and somehow he had to get that device too, without damaging it. Would it be possible? Any sudden movement could cause Dalton to hit the button.

"Of course I can!" Dalton laughed. "But the best part is that I'll be sending you and all of these other worthless dogs out of this world!"

Maryn glowered. "No, you won't!" she yelled, and immediately bit into his arm. Dalton howled in pain, his grip loosening, and the child wiggled free.

Though amused, Zack did not have time to show it. He lunged, tackling Dalton to the floor as he grabbed for the device. The warden was holding tight to it, despite all of the attacks to his person that should have weakened his grasp. He growled, trying to shove Zack away from him. But maybe Zack's interference would be a good thing, he smirked. With so many hands struggling for the controller, it was bound to go off. He kneed Zack viciously in the stomach, forcing him back. Then he began to scramble to his feet.

Instantly Zack was after him again, delivering a violent punch that sent him flying back against the wall. Before he could recover, the SOLDIER was wrapping both of his arms around Dalton's left arm. He twisted it harshly, squeezing a pressure point with one hand. The brown-haired man yelped in agony.

"My arm! My arm's gone numb!" he wailed.

Zack shoved the limp appendage aside, watching as the device fell harmlessly to the thick rug. "Not long enough," he said, and hurriedly grabbed it up. It did not seem too complicated, he decided as he studied the small panel. It was currently turned on. He slid the switch to the Off position. In his hand, he could feel it almost instantly cool down. His shoulders slumped in relief.

Dalton looked at him hatefully. The fool! He was so arrogant and self-confident, just as all of Shinra's attack dogs were. All that would have to be done would be to turn it on again. And there was always Rakesh's detonator as well. They would still die, one way or another. Slowly he started to ease himself up. He would take Zack by surprise, kill him, and take back the device.

Zack saw him out of the corner of his eye. Immediately he whirled, again punching him in the face and putting as much force into it as he could muster. Dalton yelped, crashing back into the shelves and striking his head on one of them. He sank to the floor, stunned senseless.

"Nighty-night," Zack commented, smirking again.

Then Maryn was suddenly rushing at him, hugging him around the neck as the tears began to spill from her eyes. He was safe! She had been so worried about him, but she had tried to believe that he would get free, that his friend would help him. She had tried to believe that she would see him once more, alive---and now, here he was! And she knew that they had stopped something horrible from happening. That made her happy too.

Zack gently put his arms around her, allowing her this moment. He was relieved that she was alright, that Dalton's plan had failed. But there was still Rakesh. And Seph. . . . He had to find Seph. He swallowed hard. It seemed cruel, to pull away from Maryn, but all of them could still be in danger. He would have to tie up Dalton before he left, too. And he needed to find a secure place for Maryn to stay, if such a place existed.

"Sir?"

He looked up abruptly, seeing a bewildered maid and an unfamiliar SOLDIER in the doorway. He broke into a grin.

"Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes," he declared. Slowly he got to his feet, holding Maryn in his arms. "This guy, Dalton, he tried to blow up everything." He walked over to the shocked SOLDIER, handing him the device and explaining how it worked. The other warrior listened, nodding now and then as he stared at the detonator. The maid looked horrified.

"What's the situation outside?" Zack asked then, shifting the child. He wanted badly to ask if anyone had seen Seph. Surely these SOLDIERs would know what he looked like, even though they had likely never before met him in person. Sephiroth had practically become the mascot of the SOLDIER organization.

"A lot of people dead, on both sides," sighed the other, "and still more wounded." He walked past Zack and over to Dalton, then knelt down and pushed the unconscious man onto his stomach. Dragging his arms behind him, the warrior handcuffed them together. This was the last disaster Dalton would create.

Zack swallowed. "What about Seph . . . Sephiroth?" he corrected himself hastily.

The newcomer shook his head. "No one's seen him, to my knowledge."

Maryn bit her lip, pulling back to look at the brunet. "You have to go again, don't you?" she said quietly.

Zack nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I've gotta find Seph. But I'll be back. I promise." He smiled. "And you'll be okay, won't you?"

She nodded, trying to smile as well. She understood, of course. Not only did Zack need to find his friend, but he needed to help fight, if there was more fighting to be done. She hugged him again, blinking back the tears. "You've gotta come back," she whispered. Her parents never had, that last night they had left for work. She did not want anyone else she cared about to never return.

Gently Zack set her on the floor, by the maid. "Hey, I never break a promise," he assured her as he hurried out.

* * *

Once he arrived outside, and the cold night air slapped him in the face, he realized that he was in front of the servants' quarters, and not the manor. It should not surprise him that much, he decided. The underground tunnel system did amaze him, and he wished that they had been discovered under better circumstances. He would have liked to explore them properly. Right now, there were more important things to worry about. He ran forward, back towards the prison.

All along the way he passed villagers and SOLDIERs laying on the ground, their blood staining the sands a deep red. Every now and then, he would hear the sounds of continuing battles in the near distance, but those would quickly end. Once, an enemy guard suddenly leaped into Zack's path, his gun bared and ready to fire. The brunet had been forced to quickly dispose of him before resuming his desperate search.

The drawbridge was still down at the prison, and as he went over it, he found that the courtyard was strewn with the most bodies. He shuddered, stepping over them as he made his way up the steps and to the door. If they were inside the building, then this scene would look just like his dream.

He pushed on the door, trying to get it open---but it would not budge. It was jammed somehow, and he narrowed his eyes further. He had to get in there! He _would_ get in there! He threw his body against it, hearing it creak. He tried a second time. It was weakening.

Eventually, on the fourth try, it popped open and he ran inside. It was the room he remembered, the one that had been haunting him. And he swallowed hard as he saw Rakesh's body sprawled on the floor, the neck bent at a strange angle. Obviously he was dead, laying motionless in a pool of his own blood. But what had happened to his device? Obviously it had not gone off, but had it fallen into friendly hands?

Zack walked a bit further, his steps echoing in the silent room as if it was a tomb. There was another body in here, laying facedown on the stairs. Blood was pooling underneath him, blood that could be coming from his heart. No. . . . He froze, his breath catching in his throat. No, no. . . . Dizziness rushed over him, but he pushed back the feeling of being light-headed as he ran forward. No, his dream could not come true! It could not! The bodies had been outside, instead of in here, so maybe . . . maybe Seph's fate would be different. It had to be different!

The brunet bent down beside the silver-haired man, his hands trembling as he reached out for his limp body. "Seph?" he cried, his voice cracking. "Seph . . . you've gotta be okay. . . ." Carefully he turned the other to face him, then gently lifted him off the stairs. He collapsed to his knees, cradling the other's upper body in his arms. He looked so feeble, so unlike the strong warrior Zack had known. . . .

His bangs had been pressed against his face, but when Zack moved him, they fluttered back over his ears. A bit of blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, the drops having made their way over one of his eyelids. Another thin stream of crimson was at the side of his mouth, adding to his battered appearance.

The green eyes had been closed. Now they weakly opened, but only halfway, as if he did not even have the strength to pry them open completely. He smirked up at Zack. "You took your time," he mumbled, echoing the raven-haired man's words from earlier.

Zack grinned, but it was forced. Even when the other's eyes were only partially visible, their glassiness was obvious. "It couldn't be helped," he answered.

Now he could see that Seph's heart had not been pierced, but the wound along and under his collarbone was obviously serious. It was bleeding profusely, and had painted red not only Seph's skin, clothes, and hair, but the stairs and floor. He shook his head. "Seph . . . you're in bad shape," he breathed. It was wrong to see him like this, so pale and ill, and Zack hated that he had not been able to find him sooner. "How long have you been like this?" he demanded.

Sephiroth grunted. "I don't know," he muttered. "Rakesh . . . he was going to blow us all up. . . ."

Zack nodded shakily. "So was Dalton. But we're still here. Right, Seph?" He felt a chill go up his spine. His friend was going slack in his arms. No . . . no! He would not let this happen! He would not let Seph die! Seph could not die. . . .

The younger man held on tighter. Did he think he could keep the life within the other if he did not let go? It was foolish, and unrealistic, but he was so desperate that he did not care.

"If I just had a Restore materia," he choked out, "or a potion, or something!" Even if he had brought that kind of materia, or a healing potion, it would not matter. All that he had been carrying had been confiscated by the prison guards, and they had not returned any of it to him for his fight against Rakesh.

"It wouldn't matter. . . ." Sephiroth let his head rest on Zack's shoulder. Everything was fading now. His vision was practically gone, and Zack sounded so far away. . . . Even the sensation of being held, frantically clutched, was barely there. He felt numb. He wanted to stay, and yet . . . and yet he could not seem to manage it. . . . Not at all. . . . He had been trying so long, but in the end, the darkness was still calling. It was still wrapping its fingers around him, around his heart, around his lungs. . . .

Zack's eyes widened. Seph had gone so still, so quiet, so . . . no! No! He looked down at the other. Seph looked like he was asleep. He looked like any minute he would open his eyes again. But he did not. And Zack could no longer feel the other's breath against his neck. . . .

No . . . no . . . not this. . . .

"Seph!" he screamed. "Hey! Speak to me!" He only heard deathly silence, his voice reverberating endlessly off the walls. "Seph!"

Gently he brought the lifeless form to lay on the floor, then bent down to listen. There had to still be something. . . . There had to be! But there was no breath. His chest was not rising and falling. There was no heartbeat, no pulse. His body had just given out, after going such a long period without receiving the needed treatment.

Zack shut his eyes tightly, the mist gathering within them. "No," he whispered. "Seph . . . you can't be. . . ." He was too distraught to realize that he was speaking the very words from his nightmare.

Desperately he leaned over the other again, placing his mouth against Seph's. Several times he struggled to force the breath of life into the other's lungs. Seph had to still be there . . . he had to be able to be saved . . . ! But each time, when Zack pulled away, there was no response. Seph's skin was still sickly pale, his lips bluish. He was dead.

Zack stared at him, shaking. The lump in his throat was still there, having expanded. He could not move, he could not think, he could not fully comprehend this. And yet, the knowledge was there, cold and hard, against his heart.

"You saved me, Seph," he choked out. "Why . . . why couldn't I save you?"

Seph would not have wanted to see or hear Zack suffering, feeling so helpless. He would not have wanted Zack to cry. But Zack could not stop himself. He had loved Seph as a brother, had looked up to him, joked with him, fought alongside him. And now he was gone.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, and again, especially to Lisa and Stacey! I've had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope to be able to write more stories about the Pre-Nibelheim time period.  
**

* * *

**Epilogue**

_He could feel the desperation, the hopelessness, that was choking the air, clouding and corroding it. He was not sure why it was there. It was as if there was a veil over all that he knew and had known. Everything seemed unreal, as a dream. Maybe it was a dream. . . . But some things still felt authentic._

_There was a voice, a familiar voice, pleading, calling desperately to him. And he could feel air being thrust into his lungs._

_"Come on, Seph! I'm not giving up on you yet! You've gotta wake up! You've just gotta!"_

_He still wanted to live. He wanted to accept the breath that was being offered to him. It was as if he was tumbling over a cliff and someone had thrown a rope. He reached for that rope, strained for it. It seemed just out of his grasp. But his rescuer let it down another couple of feet and he was able to snatch the very end of it._

_He gasped, his eyes flying open as he drew in the needed oxygen. As it rushed into his body, the blood suddenly rose in his throat as well. He turned his head to the side, coughing, struggling to get it out._

_"Seph! Hey, I knew you had to still be in there, old pal!"_

_Blearily he looked up, seeing a spiky-haired brunet leaning over him. He was grinning with relief, despite his weary and worn-out appearance and the traces of tears still on his face._

_"Zack. . . ."_

_"Yep." Zack moved back slightly, pressing a cloth against the wound. "You're gonna be okay, Seph. You're gonna be just fine."_

_He closed his eyes wearily, allowing his friend's voice and his gentle actions to carry him into unconsciousness.  
_

* * *

The beeping noises were what he became aware of first. They were irritating and incessant, with always the same, exact sound over and over again. Were they what had awakened him? Actually . . . how long had he been asleep? He did not recall the moment when he had dozed. And where was he?

Slowly he opened his eyes. Everything was a confused blur of whites and grays, and it was too bright. He winced, shutting his eyes again.

"Seph?"

Zack. . . . He turned his head slightly towards the sound of the other's voice. "Turn down the light," he mumbled.

"Sure thing." In a moment he heard a click, and he could tell that the glow had diminished by the way it fell on his eyelids. "Is that better?"

He opened his eyes again, cautiously. Now the room was lit as if by a nightlight. He relaxed into the soft pillow, nodding slowly in acknowledgment. "Where are we?" Obviously he was laying in some kind of bed, and it felt like he was bound in some way. Idly he glanced down, seeing that his left arm was in a sling and that there were bandages around his chest and up over his left shoulder, wrapping around to his back.

"The Shinra medical center at the Western continent's base," Zack answered grandly, leaning an arm on the bed's railing. Then he gave the other a mock stern look. "You've really kept everybody on our toes! First I find you and you die in my arms. Then some of the other SOLDIERs try to help me get you onto the helicopter to take you here, and for a minute you act again like you aren't breathing. And when we get you here, we find out you need a blood transfusion. So then your body acts for a while like it won't accept that." He shook his head. "Oh yeah, not to mention that for a while, they wondered if there'd been poison on the sword you were impaled with. There wasn't, by the way."

Now he paused. "And you're supposed to wear that sling for a while, probably at least a couple weeks," he added. "Rakesh really did a number on you! You're just lucky he didn't break your collarbone. It did get scratched pretty bad." He shuddered a bit. Seph was lucky to be alive, after everything he had gone through. Though of course, they both were.

Sephiroth nodded, frowning. It was hard for his tired mind to process all of what Zack was saying. But the memories were slowly coming back. He remembered being locked in combat with Rakesh, and the other's sword being driven into his body. He recalled Rakesh deliberately pushing through the railing to kill himself, and that then he, Sephiroth, had tried to get down the stairs when they had suddenly broken. Recollections of Zack finding him were still fuzzy in his mind, though it did seem as though it had happened, and that Sephiroth had felt himself slipping away at that point.

"I died," he repeated, looking at Zack questioningly.

"Yep." Zack nodded, pointing a finger at him in emphasis. "And I couldn't get you back for a while. You scared the heck out of me."

Sephiroth looked up at the ceiling again, thoughtfully, trying to remember. The memories teased him, dancing past too quickly for him to fully take hold of them. It was frustrating.

He glanced back to Zack after a moment. "You . . . you were trying to revive me," he said slowly.

Zack smirked mischievously. "And that," he declared, "is the only time I'll ever have my lips against yours."

Sephiroth grunted. "How long has it been?"

Zack leaned back in the chair. "This would be the third day," he said. Now his exhausted appearance was apparent. His hair was even more wild than usual, his eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles under them. There was a bandage on his cheek, and another on his right arm. Various bruises were also visible, and several places on his skin looked sore, perhaps from the electropoles.

"You haven't slept," Sephiroth accused.

"Sure I have." Zack continued to grin, and despite the fact that he looked ready to drop, the relief and joy in his eyes was clear. "Just not very much." He placed his hands behind his head.

Sephiroth used his right hand to push himself up further on the bed, using the pillow as a support for his back. "What happened with Dalton and the rest of the townspeople?" he asked. His long hair fell around him, slipping over his shoulders as he moved.

"Well, Dalton's alive, he just has a bad headache. He and the other villagers who made it out alive are being held in a Shinra-owned prison." Zack started to stretch, hearing his tired muscles crack and pop. "Worst fate for them, you know. Maybe we should just keep them there."

"They might orchestrate a prison break," Sephiroth pointed out sarcastically.

"Too true." Zack looked back to the other. "But if Shinra can't keep them in check, then what are we coming to?" He spoke lightly, his tone relaxed. Sephiroth was awake, and already trying to sit up even though he probably should not. That meant he was feeling a lot better. Everything was going to be alright.

". . . Was it ever discovered who actually did kill that villager?"

Zack shook his head. "Nope. Some SOLDIERs have been looking into it. All they know is that the guy wasn't one of the prisoners. Some of the townspeople identified him." He frowned. "And the knife that was used belongs to Dalton, as well as the brick the guy was holding."

Sephiroth frowned as well. Would Dalton have been so desperate to incense the people against them that he would have committed murder, destroying the life of one of those whom he was supposed to protect? Or could it have been an accident? But there was the mystery of the missing brick. That indicated that maybe the act had been premeditated, that maybe Dalton had placed it in the man's hand after killing him.

Now the silver-haired man was silent for a moment, continuing to ponder as well as to gather his strength. "What's going to happen to the girl, Maryn?"

Before Zack could answer, a soft knock came at the door. Then it was slowly pushed open, and the child shyly peeked in.

The brunet smiled over at her. "Hey, come in!" he said. "Seph's awake!"

Maryn brightened, coming in further and going over to the right side of the bed. "We've been really worried about you, Mr. Sephiroth!" she declared. Hesitantly she reached out, hugging him quickly before pulling back, a soft blush coming across her features.

Slowly Sephiroth laid his hand on his head, again looking to Zack with questions in his eyes. What was she doing here, at the base? He glanced back to the girl. "How did you come to be here?" he asked.

She looked up into his green eyes with her own. "Everybody had to leave Dismal," she explained, "and Zack said I could come here for a little bit, until we knew if you were gonna be okay." And while she had been very frightened for Sephiroth's well-being, she had also been very worried for Zack, as well. After the rough beating he had taken, and nearly being killed by being hanged, he had found that his best friend was gravely wounded. She had wanted to be there for him, to try to offer whatever comfort she possibly could. Zack had tried to be strong for her during the past days, but she had been able to easily tell that his heart had been aching.

Zack nodded in agreement. "It turns out Maryn here has an aunt living in Kalm," he announced. "And she said she'd be happy to have Maryn come live with her."

"She's really nice!" Maryn chirped. "And Zack said maybe you and he could come visit sometimes!"

"Maybe." Sephiroth looked to Zack. "But right now, you should get some sleep before _you_ pass out," he said in a flat tone.

Zack was unable to stifle a yawn. "I'm okay," he said then, rubbing at his eyes. He could not deny that sleep sounded wonderful. His body was aching, still not recovered from all the events in Dismal. And it had not helped to keep pushing himself afterwards. It had been a very long, torturous three days, waiting to know if Sephiroth would live or die. It seemed like it had been yesterday when the other's condition finally stabilized, but he was not sure. Everything ran together as one, agonizing experience.

He had watched over Sephiroth almost constantly during that time, once he had been allowed to see the silver-haired man. Maryn had been with him at some points, but he had not wanted her to be there much. She was too young to have to worry about being in a location as potentially grim as a hospital, and to see Seph laying so weak and still in the bed, when he might not survive.

He had wanted to believe that Sephiroth would survive, that he would wake up and be fine. After all, he had come as far as he had. He had to make it the rest of the way. But there had still been times that he had wondered, that he had worried, that Seph could still die. It had been agonizing, to watch him looking pale and half-dead, and to remember when he had not been breathing. Zack did not think he had ever felt despair as acutely as he had when Sephiroth had not responded to Zack's efforts to resuscitate him.

But over the past few hours, he had definitely improved. Before he had finally regained consciousness, the color had come back to his flesh and he had looked as if he was sleeping normally. Zack had then finally began to feel that it would be more likely that Seph would be alright. And now he was certain of it.

"Sleep." Sephiroth's voice was commanding as he sternly looked at the other.

Zack looked back, amused as he was dragged back to the present. He would never tell Seph the depth of the feelings he had experienced since first finding him laying in the prison. That was not the kind of friendship that they had. Theirs was better---Seph knew anyway, without Zack having to say anything.

"Is that an order?" he said now, playfully. "We're the same rank."

"It's an order anyway."

Zack gave him a mock salute. "Yes, sir!" he said. He stood up, stretching again, and then walked to the empty bed in the room. Slowly he sank down on it, relaxing into the softness of the mattress. It felt so good, especially after everything that had been taking place. And now he could fully enjoy it. . . .

Maryn giggled softly at their banter. "I'll be quiet," she said, sitting down on a nearby chair.

But Zack was already, peacefully, asleep.

Sephiroth watched him, nodding approvingly. "He deserves a good rest," he said, half to himself.

Maryn nodded as well. "I'm really glad I got to meet him, and you too, Mr. Sephiroth!" she added quickly.

He smiled slightly.

"I wish you and Zack could take me to Kalm," she said now. "It'll be a really long trip, and I won't know anyone. . . ." Of course, someone or another would be appointed to see that she would arrive safely. But she could not deny that she wanted more than anything for it to be Zack and Sephiroth, people she already knew and cared about, and trusted.

Sephiroth leaned back, thoughtful now. "We'll have to see," he answered. He would not promise anything. But, if there was not any immediate need to return to Midgar, then perhaps they would be able to make a stop in Kalm first. He would not be able to be actively involved in combat for a while, so it was unlikely that he would be sent on any missions in the next few weeks.

Maryn brightened. That he would consider the idea was good enough for her.

Sephiroth pushed himself down so that he was laying with his head on the pillow again. He was still exhausted himself, and he had probably spoken too much too soon. Not that he would admit it. But a natural sleep was sounding very appealing. He closed his eyes. He would just rest them for a few minutes.

Before he could stop himself, he had dozed.


End file.
